Birds Of Prey: Riddled With Bullets
by Doctor Whoops
Summary: Chapter 6 now up! The Riddler is paroled! Say's he's going straight, so who's the green guy robbing and killing and leaving clues? and what is his relationship to Helena? Dedicated to J&P with love
1. Hey Diddle Diddle

Birds Of Prey  
  
Couldn't let this series fade away this is my tribute for the fans let's keep it alive and sign the petition if you haven't already done so!  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but those that do should renew the show!!!!!!  
  
Riddled with bullets. By Terhwa  
  
Chapter One  
  
"Hey Diddle Diddle."  
  
Dinah looked blankly at the screen reflecting on how much she hated monitor duty. As part of her training, Barbara had gone into painstaking detail when showing Dinah which button did what. But Dinah, who viewed her crime-fighting role as a more on the streets kicking butt kind of gig, had paid scant attention to this merely nodding, "umming", and "aaahhhing", in what she thought were all the right places. True her telepathy had picked up small pockets of technobabble here and there but as it wasn't really knowledge she wished to accumulate it had passed through one "psychic ear" and out through the other. Much like the Gotham news bulletin that was playing on another screen close by.  
  
"I thought a refreshment might be in order." Alfred the ever-faithful Butler was at her side tray in hand with a glass of cold tea.  
  
"Thank you Alfred," Dinah took the glass and swallowed an appreciative mouthful, she paused and looked at Alfred meaningfully, "how is she?"  
  
"As well as can be expected Miss Dinah." Alfred responded tightly. "All wounds heal in time."  
  
Wade's funeral had taken place yesterday and Barbara had not been invited. However she had insisted on going to the cemetery this morning in order to say her own  
  
goodbyes, and upon her return Barbara had gone straight to her room leaving Alfred strict instructions that she was not to be disturbed.  
  
"In the meantime Miss Dinah," Alfred continued, "We must hold the fort."  
  
"Alfred.Have you any idea how any of this works?"  
  
"Miss Barbara took the precaution of running automatic surveillance." Alfred explained, "Anything unusual or noteworthy on police scanners will automatically flag."  
  
"Great!" Said Dinah as if a huge weight had suddenly lifted; she turned to the monitor that was running a Gotham news station, "let's see if there are any good movies on cable!" Her eyes glanced around the room searching for the remote.  
  
Suddenly the picture of a grinning semi balding man flashed up behind the news presenter, and Alfred with tray still in hand, produced the missing remote in his other.  
  
"I think Miss Dinah you may find this item to be of interest."  
  
And with that he turned up the volume.  
  
".Your host Tonight on Gotham Insider," the smug looking presenter beamed. A slick looking guy in a designer suit whose name Dinah could not recall.  
  
"QUESTION!" The presenter smugly pronounced, " How do you know when a super villain is no longer crooked? Answer when he's gone straight! At least that's what the recently released Edward Nygma had to say today at the launch of his biography "Riddle Me This?" Recently paroled, super villain Edward Nygma once terrorised New Gotham using the pseudonym "The Riddler."  
  
The screen flashed a picture of the same grinning man wearing a garish green leotard decorated with question marks.  
  
"Oh gross!" Dinah spluttered out a mouthful of tea.  
  
The presenter's smarmy patter continued. "A former computer and electronics genius Nygma has a lifelong fascination with puzzles and riddles. Whilst extremely intelligent he was always considered a bit odd, It was Nygma's obsession and love for puzzles that led him to commit crimes under the guise of "The Riddler." A transformation in which he would lose all sense of reality."  
  
"That explains the lack of dress sense!" Dinah smirked.  
  
The program switched to an interview with Arkham Asylum's Doctor Joan Leland who began explaining Nygma's psyche.  
"Edward became completely wrapped up in the evil and criminal behavior which was warping his mind. His need to be the Riddler stemmed from his desire to truly express the real Edward Nygma, in turn completely separating himself from any normalcy that he once had."  
  
The broadcast returned to the studio where the beaming presenter continued.  
  
"As The Riddler Nygma used a vast array of computer and electronic gizmos in his arsenal, but was best known for the lethal use of his "Question Mark" cane. That was his trademark. It is alleged that the legendary vigilante Batman ultimately foiled his plans by solving the often taxing and cryptic riddles Nygma often sent to taunt the police."  
  
The camera cut to a pastiche of letters and notes all composed of letters cut out of magazines and glued in place. The contents of which were all Riddles.  
  
"Riddles that held clues," the presenter resumed a beaming smile fixed firmly in place, "as to where and when, his next heist would take place. Over the years The Riddler became obsessed with outwitting and ultimately destroying the legendary Dark Knight. His hatred fuelled by the surprising intellect The Batman possessed, and in Nygma's twisted mind his sole concern became to create the ultimate unsolvable riddle related crime."  
  
The broadcast cut to a scene outside a large bookstore where Nygma clad in a green suit peppered with question marks was smiling and waving to the press. Behind him stood a large cut out board bearing his image and the title of his book.  
  
The presenter's spiel continued over the scene, "But all that is behind Edward Nygma now, as he seeks to carve out a new career in the media as a writer and presenter! His agent is rumoured to be in talks with various TV stations about the possibility of hosting a riddle based family game show! And his warts and all biography is tipped to be a best seller!"  
  
The Broadcast returned to the studio. "Your watching Gotham Insider with me your host Jack Ryder in other news."  
  
Alfred hit the mute.  
  
"Well that was interesting," Dinah said awkwardly failing to see the point.  
  
"Riddler has gone straight before," Alfred stated abruptly, "It barely lasted a month."  
  
*****  
  
Roland Cameron had been practicing law for almost ten years, throughout this time his record as a defence lawyer had been outstanding. Sure there had been a few losses, but generally speaking he could clear, acquit, or plea bargain for any offender with no previous or recent convictions. His summaries were the stuff of legend he could milk a jury for every ounce of sympathy they possessed, in short as defence  
  
lawyers go Roland was one of the finest, if not the best New-Gotham had to offer. Generally speaking.  
  
However in the unlikely event that Roland Cameron was to be completely honest, (he was a lawyer after all!) one area of criminal law in which he would have to admit to feeling completely inadequate to cope with was that of the super villain.  
  
Super Villains Roland felt were most definitely not his forte. In his early days he had bravely but naively attempted to defend Edward Nygma, he had argued strongly that the case was inadmissible on the grounds that a vigilante and not a recognised officer of the law had supplied the evidence.  
  
The prosecution however had strongly refuted this claim with DNA and forensic evidence inextricably linking Nygma to the crime in question. The issue of vigilante interference was thus rendered moot. Aside from all that, the final nail in the coffin had come from Nygma himself in the form of a series of self-incriminating clues mailed directly to the New Gotham PD!  
  
Most criminals, with certain exceptions, sought to get away with their crimes as subtly and anonymously as possible. Super villains were altogether a different breed, all garish costumes and gimmicks, theatrical and melodramatic, mostly they sought recognition of their criminal genius, and in Roland's opinion, made them all practically un-defendable.  
  
So in the intervening years following the Riddler fiasco, Roland had managed to steer well clear of Super Villains, busying himself with the vast array of common run of the mill gangsters, rapists, serial killers, and homicides New Gotham invariably had to offer. But recent events had changed all that; Edward Nygma had quietly served out his sentence keeping Roland's services on retainer. Roland needless to say, was far from happy with this arrangement but the money was very welcome, and besides Nygma had lost the right to any appeal making any services he required minimal at best. In fact it wasn't until Nygma's impending release that their acquaintance had been renewed, his client had sought advice on the legal implications of his forthcoming biography. And several drafts later their business was concluded. Roland had vowed never again to involve himself with a publicity-seeking criminal.  
  
But In spite of this for some strange reason that Roland was unable to fathom he had recently taken on a second similar client for half his usual fee! The initial consultation had taken place a day or so before the said client's capture. In what turned out to be a lengthy unscheduled meeting at one long afternoon in his office, the details of which still remained fuzzy.  
  
Needless to say Roland was feeling very uncomfortable with the arrangement. Yet he found himself inexplicably unable to voice his concerns.  
  
What made it worse was that legal counsel had to take place at Arkham Asylum, a place that during the intervening years since Nygma's trial Roland had vowed to avoid. The place gave him the creeps!  
Suppressing a shudder he looked directly at his client, (he was unable to look her in the eye direct as she was wearing a mandatory pair of dark shades). "I have to say Dr. Quinzel, that from a legal perspective things are not looking good!"  
  
"Not looking good," she mimicked slamming the desk in frustration the cuffs around her wrists and ankles jangling in sympathy. "I did not employ your services Mr Cameron, at the exorbitant fee you charge just to listen to you tell me what I already know! I used to run this place, and now look at me!"  
  
"I realise that Dr. Quinzel, but with someone of your Meta-human abilities, a normal prison environment is out of the question."  
  
"Prison? Prison? I want bail!"  
  
"Well as you are aware Dr. Quinzel bail was denied."  
  
The former Dr. Harlene Quinzel paused for a moment then slowly and deliberately pulled down her shades revealing an icy cold glare. No sooner was this done, a high-pitched alarm began to emit from the frame around the lenses of the shades.  
  
Harley's glare turned to one of irritation as she cringed and rolled her eyes. The door burst open and three orderlies filled the space, tasers at the ready.  
  
"PUT THE SHADES BACK ON QUINZEL!" One of them boomed.  
  
"Okay, Okay, I forgot!" Harley protested snapping the shades back into place. "Can we have a light on in here? If I gotta keep these things on I need to see!"  
  
The alarm stopped.  
  
"Er it's okay boys," Roland beamed, "It just slipped my client's mind." (Along with her sanity, he wanted to add but didn't.)  
  
The orderlies began to file out and assume their positions behind the two- way mirrors surrounding the room.  
  
"WHAT ABOUT A LIGHT?" Harley screamed.  
  
"Sorry babe," one of the orderlies shrugged, "Dr Leland's orders, not enough jing in the budget!"  
  
"NEVER WOULD'VE HAPPENED WHEN I WAS IN CHARGE!" Harley boomed.  
  
"Anyway Dr. Quinzel," Roland resumed, "as regards to your legal position."  
  
"Yada, yada yada!" Harley interjected, "Booorrriiinnnnggg!!! Let's go back to our original discussion!"  
  
"Our original discussion?" Roland's face was a mask of confusion.  
  
"Yes but of course you wouldn't remember that would you Rolly dear? But never mind your auntie Harley's here to jog your memory!" She grinned a broad one the size of a Cheshire cat, "Come on Rolly, sing along with me! I'm H.A.P.P.Y!"  
  
Roland's eyes glazed over and suddenly he joined in, "I'm H.A.P.P.Y!"  
  
"I know I am, I'm sure I am I'm H.A.P.P.Y!"  
  
Harley began clapping and rattling her chains, Roland's face was now pulled back in a ghastly soulless grin.  
  
Sensing something amiss the orderlies burst back into the room.  
  
"What's going on?"  
  
Roland started to giggle.  
  
Harley turned to face the orderlies. Her face or what could be seen of it under the shades was a picture of mock innocence.  
  
"Why nothing's going on, Roland and I were just having a little sing song before you return me to my cold and lonely cell!" She smiled sweetly.  
  
Roland's giggle turned to laughter, loud shrieking laughter, the like of which had not been heard in Arkham since Joker was shipped upstate all those years ago.  
  
"Bye for now Rolly!" Harley blew him a kiss, "Wish I could stay to watch all the fun but alas it's time for me to retire!" She allowed the orderlies to escort her from the room.  
  
"Rolly" was rocking wildly and uncontrollably on his seat and as Harley was shown back to her cell, the dull thud of Roland Cameron falling backwards off his chair echoed down the corridor whilst Doctor's and Nurse's frantically tried to sedate him.  
  
Later Roland Cameron would appear calm and collected and following a further cursory medical examination would be allowed to leave. By which time the instructions Harley had subliminally implanted in Roland at his office, using her recently acquired meta human ability for mind control, would have crept from his subconscious and firmly taken hold.  
  
Once again the former Dr. Harlene Quinzel congratulated herself for an inspired and perfect plan. One that she had set up in case of capture, a concise set of instructions given to Roland Cameron and others, that would lie dormant in their minds, waiting for key words that would trigger and unleash certain specific psychotic action's on the unsuspecting citizens of New-Gotham. A collection of human time bombs waiting to release a wonderful, murderous, chain of events.  
  
Maybe today, maybe tomorrow, maybe even a few years down the line when Arkham life and the pain of separation from her dear clown faced puddin became too much to bear. Then she could call one of them and with a carefully selected code word, sometimes in a song, sometimes a rhyme, or a joke, Harley could sit back and watch the chaos unfold from the comfort of her cell. After all, they let her have her own TV!  
  
But for right now Roland had specific instructions, instructions to trigger a specific time bomb, one of many that Harley had ordered to respond only to Roland's voice, and the timing for this one was perfect! Which according to her Puddin was everything as far as comedy and death and mayhem were concerned.  
  
Harley continued to grin as the orderlies unlocked her cell, gently rocking herself back and forth on her heels singing in a low wistful voice;  
  
"I know I am, I'm sure I am, I'm H.A.P.P.Y!"  
  
*****  
  
Edward Nygma had found writing his memoirs to be very easy indeed. Having always loved the sound of his own voice, he had whiled away the last remaining months of his sentence regaling a Dictaphone with tales of days gone by. Dr. Joan Leland had actively encouraged the pursuit as a cathartic exercise on the road back to sanity. A state to which she adamantly believed Nygma had fully embraced.  
  
Furthermore as Nygma's closing passages or ramblings had reflected and moralised upon the wrongs of crime and how it doesn't pay, the good Dr. Leland saw no reason why Nygma should not seek to have his memoirs published. So throughout the whole creative process Nygma was glad to say that he never once suffered the age-old affliction of writers cramp.  
  
That is until today.  
  
Nygma had lost count of the amount of books he had signed at New Gotham's most prominent bookstore. He had smiled until his face ached, laughed tolerantly as people tried to catch him out with their own riddles, riddles he had used before most of them were even born. He had shook hands, posed for photographs, even kissed babies for crying out loud! All in the name of self-promotion! In short Edward Nygma reflected, it was the hardest day's work he could ever recall.  
  
The limo journey from the bookstore back to his hotel had taken a while, leaving Nygma time to reflect on the many changes and alterations the city had undergone during his years of incarceration.  
  
"Half-way up the hill, I see thee at last  
  
Lying beneath me with thy sounds and sights --  
  
A city in the twilight, dim and vast,  
  
With smoking roofs, soft bells, and gleaming lights."  
  
"Did you say something Mr Nygma?" The driver enquired.  
  
"Oh nothing Burt," Edward sighed, "just remembering Longfellow's old riddle of the past."  
  
The literary reference meant nothing to Burt who simply shrugged as he turned the limo off Moench Row into Commerce Street, and along the east side of Grant Park to what is known to all Gothamites as The Fashion District. Turning into Manley Street the Limo finally pulled over outside The Gotham Plaza Hotel.  
  
"Here we are Mr Nygma."  
  
"Why thank you Burt," Edward acknowledged and handed him a generous tip before getting out of the car.  
  
He tipped his way from doorman to bell boy, stopping in the lobby to sign yet another autograph before making it to the elevator and the final ascent to his top floor penthouse, a luxury bath, a nice cold beer, and a nice long sleep. Edward yawned in apprehension.  
  
But no sooner had he entered the penthouse he knew that he was not alone. Another figure stood, lying in wait for him amongst the shadows cast outside on his balcony.  
  
The slide door to the balcony was open, and Nygma knew that he had left it shut. After all, there were a lot of thieves around!  
  
The figure on the balcony made a move, was that a cape he saw?  
  
"Surely not," Nygma sighed, Not him! Surely he hadn't come out of his retirement, or exile or whatever the hell it was just to warn him off again! Any minute now he expected to see the cape swirl, revealing a yellow oval chest plate bearing the insignia of a Bat, and the six foot figure of old tall dark and gruesome himself glaring at him from beneath the mask growling in that deep dark scary voice of his, "I'm watching you Nygma! Sooner or later you are going to slip, and I'll be waiting!"  
  
Or something like that, but of course it didn't happen, Batman was long gone, of that Nygma was sure, instead the figure remained patiently in the shadows.  
  
"Who's there?" Edward called, as slowly he advanced to the balcony.  
  
Suddenly the sound of hands clapping automatically switched on the lights, Nygma groaned how had he forgotten to do that?  
  
He looked around the luxury apartment a large bouquet of roses was laid out on a table in the middle of the room, above which hung a large clumsy banner, which read:  
  
"Welcome Home Uncle Edward!"  
  
For once Edward Nygma was lost for words.  
  
"I didn't know you got out until today, so I made it in kind of a hurry." An awkward yet distantly familiar female voice said from amongst the shadows.  
  
A tall strikingly beautiful woman clad from head to toe in black, and wearing a long black leather coat, emerged from the shadows, and for a moment Edward thought he had seen a ghost as he stepped back in horror.  
  
"S-Selena?"  
  
There was an awkward pause as Edward realised his mistake, and for a moment the figure looked like the heartbroken little girl that she had been when last he saw her so long ago at her mother's funeral.  
  
"Helena!" Edward smiled and opened out his arms "Helena Kyle!"  
  
They hugged as warm tears streamed down their faces, "I've missed you Uncle Edward!" Helena gasped.  
  
"Me too sweetie, me too."  
  
*****  
  
Peter Nashton had been happily drifting off to sleep when the knocking started. The fleapit he rented came with a grand view of the New-Gotham subway whose trains ran round the clock. So he was used to sleeping with noise. His neighbours, both above, below, across the landing, or either side, invariably came home at all hours and didn't care who knew it. And aside from this Peter rarely had visitors (unless they were paid by the hour) so it was for these reasons that he did not immediately associate the sounds as coming from his front door.  
  
Suddenly Peter realised it was someone knocking. And no sooner did this thought flash across his mind, the knocking stopped.  
  
"Fine," Peter thought to himself, "jerk probably got the wrong room anyway". He rolled over in order to return to slumber.  
  
It was at this point that the front door burst open in a crash, Peter's heart almost leaped out of his mouth as he sat bolt upright and came face to face with the intruder. The man in the doorway was dressed in a very smart suit, he was grinning broadly from ear to ear and holding a fire extinguisher.  
  
"Knock knock!" The grinning man quipped.  
  
"W-who are you? W-what do you want with me? LEAVE ME ALONE!"  
  
The grin faded for a moment "I have a message for you!" The intruder was now standing at the foot of the bed. The fire extinguisher was hanging awkwardly in his hands and he looked around for somewhere to put it down.  
  
"What are you talking about who.?"  
  
But Peter's last line was cut off as the intruder sent the fire extinguisher over his head and out through the back window. Which unfortunately happened to be shut. Peter was now showered in glass and very, very, scared.  
  
"Oh God please, my wallets in my coat you can have it, take anything but just don't hurt me please."  
  
The grinning man motioned for Peter to shush; ignoring the shards of broken window he sat himself on the edge of the bed, like a parent about to tell a bedtime story.  
  
"Peter Nashton I have a very important message for you."  
  
"Y-You do?"  
  
The well dressed grinning man nodded.  
  
"W-who from?"  
  
The grinning man made a dismissive gesture with his hands, "I need you to sing it with me!" Gazing fixedly into Peter's fearful eyes he began to sing in a soft lullaby tone. "I'm H.AP.P.Y."  
  
Peter's eyes glazed over, and all the fear left him as Harley's concise and clear instructions flooded out from his subconscious and filled his vacuous empty life with a new sense of purpose.  
  
By the time Roland Cameron had reached the "I know I am, I'm sure I am," stanza of the verse, Peter's voice had joined him in perfect harmony. And when their duet was over and the well-dressed grinning lawyer had upped and walked out the door, Peter began to smile. But his grin was a small tight- lipped expression, conveying a deadly sense of smug conceit.  
  
"Hey diddle diddle," he murmured, "It's time for a riddle!"  
  
***** 


	2. Shark Infested Custard

Riddled With Bullets  
  
Chapter Two  
  
"Shark Infested Custard."  
  
"Miss Barbara are you sure this is wise?"  
  
"I'm fine Alfred."  
  
But Barbara's eyes Alfred noted, told another story. They were teary red from crying. Her face was firmly fixed into a grim mask of resolve, as she navigated her wheelchair up the ramp and into the nerve centre of the online presence known as Oracle.  
  
Standing awkwardly to one side Dinah exchanged shrugs with Alfred as Barbara busied herself grappling with mouse and keyboard as she scanned the vast reams of data on the large monitor before her.  
  
There was a long moment of awkward silence.  
  
"And where's Helena?" Barbara's tone was sharp.  
  
Dinah shifted around uncomfortably. Her psychic ability was picking up some very grim vibes from Barbara's direction. She made no attempt to answer so Barbara spun her chair round to face her an expectant glare playing across her face. It was the sort of behaviour Dinah would later reflect that was more typical of Helena at the build up to one of her tantrums, but from Barbara it was a very cold unnerving quality.  
  
"She's offline at present," Dinah lamely attempted to explain.  
  
"That's not what I asked," Barbara snapped, "I can see she has been offline all night, what I want to know is where she is."  
  
Dinah shrugged, "perhaps she's with Reese."  
  
"According to the Police Department roster he's on duty."  
  
"Probably there idea of a hot date?"  
  
Dinah knew this was a mistake as soon as she said it. Lately it seemed that Barbara's reception to humour or anything vaguely resembling its like was met with either a shrug or an icy glare. Or if you really caught her at a bad time, like right now, a combination of both.  
  
Shaking her head, Barbara returned to the monitor and its multiple streams of data.  
  
"Great!" She muttered, "We have a major super villain at large, and she's decided to goof off!"  
  
"You mean The Puzzler?" Dinah asked incredulously.  
  
"The Riddler." Barbara corrected.  
  
"Whatever," Dinah shrugged, "But he hasn't done anything wrong."  
  
"Yet!" Barbara cut her off.  
  
"If I may say Miss Barbara," Alfred interjected, "whilst Mr Nygma's release is a matter of some concern it would appear that at present, his attention is diverted elsewhere."  
  
"Yep," Barbara nodded, "That's usually how it starts."  
  
"I can assure you Miss Barbara, that Miss Dinah has done an excellent job of holding the fort." Alfred persisted, "and indeed one fails to see why on a night such as this she should not continue."  
  
"Meaning I should butt out right?" Barbara glared.  
  
"Barbara, it's a quiet night," Dinah stated, "I can handle it."  
  
"And so can I!" Barbara's tone was full of venom.  
  
Dinah was rapidly reaching the end of her patience. For days now everyone had been treading on eggshells around Barbara. Frightened to say or do the wrong thing. But enough she decided was enough, Wade like her mother, was yet another casualty of their private war. He wasn't coming back, and his killer was locked up where she belonged.  
  
"Barbara no one's saying you can't.." Dinah floundered looking to Alfred for support, she knew what had to be said but couldn't bring herself to do it. For a fleeting moment the idea that if it were up to Helena she would just come right out and say it flashed through her mind as she searched for the words.  
  
"Barbara," Dinah continued "ever since."  
  
"Since what?" Barbara challenged, again spinning the chair round to confront her.  
  
Dinah looked towards Alfred, who nodded his support, as if to say, "go on she needs to hear it."  
  
"Things have been quiet ever since we took down Dr Quinzel," Dinah heard herself say, "there is no more big bad!"  
There she had said it! Done the unthinkable! By naming Wades killer in Barbara's presence she had spoken the unspeakable! Barbara it seemed was just as shocked as she was, you didn't have to be psychic to see that she was lost for words.  
  
It took a few seconds but she collected herself, taking a deep breath whilst her face reassembled itself into that mask of grim resolve that had lately proved to be the grand harbinger of bad atmospheres.  
  
Abruptly Barbara spun back round to face her monitor.  
  
"Taking down the big bad is one thing," she stated almost spitting out the words "Big Bad," in between mouse clicks and keyboard strokes, "But now we have a different problem," she continued, "we have a power vacuum amongst the crime syndicates of New Gotham, either they will splinter, or someone else will step in." She paused, "It's just a matter of time."  
  
Suddenly Edward Nygma's file appeared up on the monitor, and again there was a picture of The Riddler grinning away in that ridiculous looking leotard.  
  
"And you think it's gonna be him?" Dinah snorted in disbelief, "What's he gonna do Riddle us to death?"  
  
"He's tried to do exactly that on many occasions, that cane of his for example, can fire bullets fully automatic at a rate of 100 rounds per minute. 40 rounds semi."  
  
She paused to let that sink in, "It's custom made and there were only two ever produced, one is currently in the cave's trophy room." She meant the Bat Cave under Wayne manor.  
  
"And the other?" Dinah enquired.  
  
Barbara's fingers tapped out a beat on the keyboard.  
  
"Evidence vault at the old Gotham Central Police Department Headquarters," She replied bringing up the information.  
  
Barbara sat back with a look of triumph, "it went missing over a month ago."  
  
******  
  
Little Helena Kyle aged seven was far too excited to sleep. She was waiting to see Uncle Edward, and she was sure that he was coming.  
  
In fact she knew it in her heart.  
  
It was at times like these he arrived in the middle of the night and made her laugh keeping her awake with a constant stream of riddles, jokes, and puzzles. Until Mummy would tell them both to keep the noise down and Uncle Edward would have  
  
To go and sleep in the secret room where Mummy kept the old clothes, the ones she swore she would never wear again.  
  
Helena's first inkling of Uncle Edward's impending visit had come during his sudden appearance on television tonight. He was what the presenter's of the Gotham news bulletin referred to as "a breaking story."  
  
They showed as they always did when featuring Uncle Edward, an old picture of him not smiling but holding up a board with a series of numbers. The stern voiceover as usual stressed, "Do not approach, the suspect is considered armed and dangerous."  
  
As usual Mummy when quizzed about the possibility of a visit from Uncle Edward, was non-committal.  
  
"Go to sleep," she told her sternly. "Isis," she added addressing the large dark grey cat snuggled at the foot of the bed, "keep an eye on her."  
  
But little Helena had long since made the connection between her Uncle's mugshot plastered all over primetime viewing, and his infrequent visits. And to Helena the anticipation could not have been greater than if she was waiting for Santa.  
  
However, in spite of all this sleep eventually claimed her as she drifted off to dreamland amid the low humming sounds of Isis contented purrs. Only to be rudely awoken sometime later by the clanging sounds of the doorbell. Followed quickly by Mummy's voice.  
  
Leaping out of bed little Helena crept to her vantage point on the landing where she was certain she couldn't be seen.  
  
It was Uncle Edward!  
  
He was standing in the doorway wearing the smelly grey clothes he often wore on visits like these. Occasionally he wore the funny green ones but they usually smelled okay.  
  
".really should've stayed put this time Eddie." Mummy was saying shaking her head.  
  
"What can I say?" Uncle Edward replied, "You know how it is, the opportunity was there so I took it."  
  
Selena Kyle formerly known as Catwoman did know exactly "how it is" all too well.  
  
"Just for a couple of days Selena, please, for old times sake?"  
  
Shrugging resignedly Selena moved to one side allowing Edward Nygma, AKA The Riddler, currently New Gotham's most wanted to cross the threshold.  
  
"They'll throw away the key this time." She warned as she double locked the door.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Uncle Edward sighed, seemingly unconcerned as he breezed into the room.  
  
Helena noticed he was carrying a package.  
  
"And how is my little princess?" He beamed, and then looking straight in the direction of Helena's hiding place he added, "safely tucked up in bed I hope."  
  
Helena did her best to suppress a little giggle. But failed.  
  
Mummy was frowning at the package.  
  
"I bought her a little something," Uncle Edward explained.  
  
"So I see," Mummy said her large bright green eyes expressing rank disapproval.  
  
Uncle Edward sighed with exasperation, "Will you relax? I said I bought it didn't I? I was gonna put it in the mail but seeing as I was in the neighbourhood."  
  
"Okay, okay." Selena Kyle held up her hands in defeat.  
  
Uncle Edward had now reached the stairs, "But it's only for good little girls that are tucked up in bed!"  
  
Helena scrambled to her feet and bolted for her bed. Isis who had been slumbering peacefully, or perhaps that should be cat napping almost jumped out of his skin.  
  
"Helena, princess?"  
  
Helena almost did the same as she was disturbed from her memories and suddenly brought back to the present to find Uncle Edward poised over her glass, offering a refill.  
  
Helena politely refused, painfully aware that she would have to make some attempt at going out on patrol tonight or else risk Barbara's wrath.  
  
"I'm sorry I never got in touch," Uncle Edward explained awkwardly, "I just felt that now that you're older, well I figured you might be ashamed of me."  
  
"Why would you think that?"  
  
Uncle Edward hesitated, and then sat himself beside her on the couch.  
  
"Helena, I did some bad things."  
  
"So have I!" Helena said, "If you read my letters you would know!"  
  
"Letters?" Confusion was a feeling The Riddler often inflicted but seldom experienced.  
  
Helena studied him for a moment; he seemed as genuinely confused as she was hurt. But of course she had seen him like this before, only once, the last time they had met.  
  
"Helena," Edward said slowly, "I didn't get any letters."  
  
This was unexpected, when Helena had seen her Uncle on the news bulletins earlier, it had brought up a flood of emotions, and a treasure trove of buried memories. All at once the part of her that retained her childhood feelings was excited and happy for her Uncle, and the part of her that was colder, adult, world-weary and cynical was mad as hell.  
  
A quick call to Reese had yielded Nygma's current address and then she had made her preparations.  
  
The very last time Helena had seen her Uncle Edward, was at her mother's funeral. Having obtained the necessary permission from Arkham Asylum, Uncle Edward had arrived cuffed to a large, burly, guard, with several others in tow, hanging back in order to maintain a respectful distance from the proceedings.  
  
After the funeral they had barely given Uncle Edward enough time to offer his condolences before ushering him away to an armoured vehicle and back to his cell at Arkham.  
  
He had stood awkwardly before the grieving, angst ridden, young lady, wearing the same look of confusion that Helena could see on him now.  
  
"The last time I saw you," Helena blurted, "you told me that if I needed anything, I could always come to you!"  
  
"I meant it Helena, your family to me!"  
  
"I wrote to you so many times!" A tear rolled down Helena's cheek, "and all I got was nothing!" She stood up.  
  
Edward followed his niece and tried to hug her but she shook him off.  
  
"You didn't get my letters?" She snapped.  
  
"No Helena I didn't." And he didn't flinch.  
  
"Not even when I wrote to you from Juvie?"  
  
"You were in Juvie?"  
  
"I damaged a fire hydrant!" Helena said dismissively.  
  
"A fire hydrant?" Uncle Edward's face broke into a grin.  
  
"It's not funny!" Helena shoved him playfully trying to suppress a giggle and failing.  
  
But Edward Nygma was helpless with laughter, and Helena was quick to follow.  
  
"Oh Helena," Edward sighed as the laughter died down, "I haven't laughed so much since, since the time you put Isis in the dishwasher!"  
  
And he was off again tears streaming down his face as he fell back on the couch convulsed in hysterics.  
  
"I didn't put him there." Helena gasped between laughs, "he was asleep!"  
  
"It was the last time your mother ever asked you to help out!"  
  
Abruptly the laughter stopped at the mention of the dead. A moment of awkward silence ensued.  
  
"I've missed you Uncle Edward." Helena sighed.  
  
"Me too princess," Uncle Edward reached out for a hug and this time Helena did not resist.  
  
"I can't look at a puzzle book or a crossword without thinking of you." Helena began to blub again.  
  
Uncle Edward stood back to look at his niece, a pang of regret crossed his heart, she had grown up and he had missed it!  
  
"What's yellow and has fins?" He smirked, determined not to let the mood get the better of him.  
  
Then they both said at once, "SHARK INFESTED CUSTARD!"  
  
And the laughter began again, as Edward fell back on the couch but this time taking Helena with him. They were a tangled mess of arms and legs as amid hysterical laughter they both tried to sit up straight. And just for a very brief time, the child in Helena Kyle took over and she was seven years old again, and her world a bright and happy place.  
  
******  
  
Detective Jesse Reese didn't mind his weird reputation at the New Gotham Police Department one bit. He got results and that was all that mattered. Tonight he had turned up to his shift and found a large black X made of industrial strength black tape, plastered over his office door. It took him a moment to get the joke, after all he hadn't seen much TV of late, and since the change of cast on that particular show it had never been the same as far as Reese was concerned.  
  
Nevertheless with his growing reputation for delving into the weird side of New Gotham's underworld he could appreciate fully the irony of being tagged as New Gotham's equivalent of Fox Mulder.  
  
"Funny guys," he smiled to the rest of his giggling department.  
  
"Well all that's needed is to partner you with someone pretty and then we've got the set!" Quipped Sergeant Merkel escorting a drunk and disorderly to an awaiting cell.  
  
"Funny," Reese replied with a glance at his usual partner McNally who was stuffing his face with Do-nut's, "I've been saying the same thing for years!"  
  
The rest of the evening had been pretty quiet. In fact since the apprehension of Dr Quinzel you could say things had been a bit too quiet. There was a mound full of paperwork to catch up on so Reese having grabbed him self a mocha and scolded McNally for not leaving him any Do-nut's set to work.  
  
So absorbed was he in trying to write up a way overdue report on Chris Cassius in a style that avoided any reference to meta human crime activity, (how do you explain that the victim had been turned into clay without sounding like a bad X-File plot?) That he barely noticed the delivery boy and the package that was left on his desk. Almost absentmindedly he signed for it, barely looking up before returning to the task at hand. The package meanwhile sat quietly on the edge the desk.  
  
Well almost.  
  
It took a few seconds, but Reese finally realised it was ticking.  
  
***** 


	3. The Dead Carrying The Living

Riddled With Bullets  
  
Chapter 3  
  
"The Dead Carrying The Living."  
  
"Huntress.Helena are you there?"  
  
The impatience in Oracle's voice told Huntress that evidently her time out from patrol had not gone unnoticed.  
  
"I'm a little busy right now!" She responded assessing the oncoming threat.  
  
In front of her thug number one swung wide attempting a roundhouse punch from the right. This always made Huntress smile, why did guys feel it necessary to punch at such a wide arc? It left very little power at point of impact, not that he would get the chance as Huntress struck first with a straight-line punch to the middle of the chest thus teaching thug number one the error of his ways. He paused temporarily surprised at this unexpected turn of events, leaving Huntress the opportunity to finish him off with a left uppercut to the chin. Thug number one went down as Huntress heard the satisfactory click of a displaced jaw.  
  
That just left thug number two behind her. This one was not so clumsy; he tried a pretty graceful foot sweep, which Huntress was easily able to avoid by leaping.  
  
Whilst she was in the air she went for a roundhouse kick catching Thug number two at a forty-five degree arc to his testicles. He had left himself wide open with his right leg still outstretched from the attempted foot sweep.  
  
Landing lightly on her feet Huntress faced her helpless prey, clearly now in excruciating agony. Both his hands clutched the afflicted area in a futile attempt to ward off the pain spasms that were shooting up his nether regions.  
  
Staring pointedly towards his crotch Huntress quipped, "you can't make an omelette without breaking some eggs!"  
  
If ever there was a cue for a punch line this was it. Oracle waited as the sounds of Huntress's knockout blow resounded through her headset.  
  
"Are you done?" She asked.  
  
"Sorry," Huntress voice came back, "A minor smash and grab in the diamond district."  
  
"Okay never mind that did you get anything out of Nygma?"  
  
Huntress, Helena Kyle stopped dead. How did Oracle know where she had been? Was there a tracer planted on her someplace?  
  
"Reese told me you asked for his address." Oracle's voice came back by way of explanation.  
  
Helena decided avoidance was her best tactic, "you spoke with Reese?"  
  
"He's on his way over, The Riddler fed exe'd his first clues to the New Gotham PD. As per his usual M.O. the riddles contain clues as to the where's and when's of his next heist all we have to do is figure it out."  
  
"I'm on my way!" Helena replied bluntly and leaped up a fire escape and onto the rooftops.  
  
Something screwy was clearly going on, and there was no way you could explain to "Batgirl" that one of her former nemesis was on the straight and narrow. Helena ran to the edge of the roof and leapt. She needed to do a small flip about midway across in order to bridge the gap to the next rooftop. Tucking her legs in Helena recalled Barbara once telling her that back in the day whenever any of the old man's rogue's gallery were paroled, he would show up on their doorstep and deliver the same grim warning;  
  
"Remember I'm watching you! Sooner or later you are going to slip, and when that time comes, I'll be waiting!"  
  
Obviously Oracle thought she was carrying on the family tradition and Helena saw no reason why she should not go on thinking just exactly that.  
  
She performed the flip and rolled out ready to land. There was an accompanying rush of wind causing her coat to flare out like a cape, and with outstretched arms The Huntress cruised down to the awaiting rooftop.  
  
The Clock Tower loomed in the distance, and Huntress took another leap for the next roof. Whatever was going on out there, either someone trying to copycat, or frame her Uncle, they had made a very serious mistake.  
  
"Whoever you are," Huntress mused, "you've picked the wrong family to mess with."  
  
And somewhere deep inside, where the dark, cold, part of Helena Kyle lived, a little piece of her psyche gleefully looked forward to tearing that someone apart.  
  
****** Reese had moved quickly, and following his recent run in with explosives (surprisingly for a guy who lived breathed and ate do-nuts) so did McNally. As soon as Reese cried "Bomb!" They were both out of the door just before the package went off.  
  
Except it were not so much of a boom, but rather more of a giant pop. And what exploded from the package was not nitro-glycerine but a wildly colourful blitz of confetti.  
  
McNally looked at Reese with disbelief, "Is it your birthday?"  
  
But Reese if he heard didn't respond there was something else that had been in the package. Several cards lay strewn amongst the mess of confetti on his desk. And as he drew nearer Reese noticed that the cards bore messages whose letters had all been cut from newspaper.  
  
Discreetly pocketing the cards, Reese managed to pass the whole thing off as another joke to McNally and the rest of the gaping Department. Promptly making his excuses to his colleagues and promising to get even with "whichever one of you buttheads did this," he headed straight for the car checking his cell phone as he went, for the contact number recently given him by Oracle.  
  
*****  
  
Helena was the first to arrive at the Clock Tower. Barbara and Alfred were puzzling over some data and neither of them looked up. Deciding it best to get the chastisement over with ASAP Helena headed over to them, "Hey guys I'm sorry."  
  
"Why didn't you clue me in that you were onto Nygma?"  
  
The voice came from behind, and it didn't belong to Barbara. Helena turned to face a very angry Dinah.  
  
"We're supposed to be a team."  
  
"Yeah but sometimes I work alone." Helena retorted dismissively she was so tired of this old argument!  
  
"Girls!" It was Barbara, "not now!"  
  
"Fine," Dinah continued regardless, "but you should've told me."  
  
"What's it to you anyway?" Helena shrugged.  
  
"Because when I'm on duty I'm responsible! That means I have to know what's going on in the field, teamwork!"  
  
The buzzer went and Alfred moved off to let Reese in.  
  
"Dinah enough!" Barbara turned to Helena "Did you get anywhere with Nygma?"  
  
"I just got the sense that he wants to get on with his life." Helena shrugged.  
  
Barbara looked at Helena for a long moment. "Really?"  
  
Helena nodded.  
  
Barbara looked at Dinah and some small signal passed between them, it was subtle but Helena caught it.  
  
"What?" She said defensively.  
  
"There's something else isn't there?" Dinah prompted.  
  
Helena turned to face her again, "Are you trying to psyche me?"  
  
"No," Dinah said awkwardly, "I can just sense things sometimes."  
  
"Oh really? Well can you sense what I'm thinking now little witch?"  
  
"Yeah part of it rhymes with witch," Dinah returned determined not to be intimidated, "I guess I'm supposed to be scared now right?"  
  
That was it! Helena advanced on Dinah but a whirling sound stopped her dead in her tracks. Barbara had thrown a "rang" their customised version of a boomerang. It whistled passed Helena's head planting itself in the wall behind.  
  
"That's enough from both of you!" Barbara's voice was sharp.  
  
"Er ladies, is this a bad time?" Enquired Reese awkwardly.  
  
"May I suggest we turn to the matter in hand?" Alfred said during the awkward pause that followed. He gestured towards the monitor screen that had held both his and Barbara's attention since Reese's telephone call. "In my experience a puzzle can only be solved with a clear head."  
  
With that said everyone went over to have a look at the monitor.  
  
"Er Miss Helena," Alfred called. "I wonder if I might have a quick word?" He gestured for Helena to follow him out onto the balcony.  
  
Barbara looked quizzically at Alfred, who just gave one of his "Superior smiles." Now what was he up to? A cool breeze went through the room as they both moved out into the fresh air. Whatever it was it would keep for now.  
  
"Have you got the cards?" Barbara queried turning to Reese.  
  
Reese took them out of his pocket "here they are just as I told you." He looked up at the data typed on the monitor screen, "I see you've got them up word perfect."  
  
"Since you read them out to me I've had the computer looking for any cross references." Barbara explained examining the cards.  
  
"Any luck?" Reese was totally out of his depth.  
  
"Not sure, let's take them one by one."  
  
Barbara brought the first message up on the screen.  
  
Question; What Doesn't Get Wet When It Rains?  
  
They all looked blankly at the screen.  
  
Dinah shrugged, "that's gotta be water!"  
  
Barbara ran a hand through her hair, "Yes but I think it's referring to a specific type of water let's look at the next one."  
  
The next one simply read;  
  
Whilst I was engaged in sitting  
  
I spied the dead carrying the living.  
  
"No idea," Dinah stated, "What's the last one?"  
  
Barbara punched it up.  
  
I go around in circles  
  
whether you be Rich or Poor,  
  
I go around in circles And leave you wanting more.  
  
"Well don't look at me," Reese shrugged, "All this is supposed to tell us when a robbery is gonna take place?"  
  
Barbara nodded, "Irritating isn't it?"  
  
*****  
  
"Well?" Helena turned to Alfred.  
  
"Ms Helena please understand that I do not wish to pry."  
  
"I sense a but coming," Away from the others Helena seemed far more relaxed; her earlier hostility had all but disappeared. "What's on your mind Alfred?"  
  
Alfred paced towards the edge of the balcony and peered out at the grim architectural monstrosity that wasNew-Gotham.  
  
"Throughout the many years I spent in your father's service, I have been required to keep many secrets." Alfred began.  
  
Helena nodded not sure where this was going.  
  
"He kept very detailed files on all his associates, whether they be friend or foe." Alfred paused, "shortly after Miss Barbara began operating as Oracle we transferred  
  
the data from the cave beneath the manor," (Alfred could never bring himself to refer to it as the BatCave.)  
  
"I remember it was all uploaded to the servers here at the clock tower," Helena acknowledged, "It was a technical nightmare."  
  
Alfred gave a wry smile, the data had been heavily encrypted and rigged to trigger a particularly virulent virus on any would be hackers trying to upload. It had taken Barbara days to find a way to circumvent it.  
  
"Well almost everything was transferred," Alfred confessed, " I thought it prudent to edit certain information." He looked meaningfully at Helena.  
  
"Alfred," Helena shifted uneasily, "what are you inferring?" But deep down she knew perfectly well.  
  
Alfred took a deep breath, "I know about your Uncle Edward." He stated.  
  
"Okay." Helena shrugged.  
  
"When your Father was a little younger than you are now, we spent some time in Japan he and I."  
  
"Training?"  
  
"Indeed, whilst young Master Bruce spent his days absorbing the way of Bushido under Sensei Yoru, I passed many a happy hour conversing with a Buddhist monk named."  
  
"Alfred I don't wish to be rude but is there a point to this?"  
  
"Yes of course my dear, forgive my ramblings but I was simply recalling an appropriate passage from one of the Buddhist sutra's which say's "even a heartless criminal loves his family."  
  
"I know he's tried to go straight before Alfred, but this time it's for real."  
  
"Ms Helena, whilst I've no doubt that you know Mr Nygma better than any of us, and have seen a side to him that none of the others even knew existed, deception nevertheless was one of The Riddler's main traits." Alfred cautioned. "Just be careful child."  
  
Helena nodded "Alfred thank you for being discreet."  
  
"Why my dear child think nothing of it," he smiled reassuringly, "now perhaps we should return or else face further awkward questions."  
  
*****  
  
The only awkward questions to face as it turned out where those posed by The Riddler it seemed. The mood inside the clock tower was very sombre, with everyone racking their brains. Dinah steadfastly refused to look in Helena's direction and Barbara's attention as usual lay in the cyber realm.  
  
Reese on the other hand was only too glad to tear himself away from the riddles and ran over to Helena.  
  
"How've you been?" He asked.  
  
"Better," Helena sighed admiring Reese's rugged countenance, "I've been better."  
  
They hugged for a long moment neither one of them wishing to break off the embrace.  
  
"So what are the riddles?" Helena finally asked now feeling just a tad self conscious around the others.  
  
Reese showed her the cards.  
  
"Well the first one's water!" Helena said.  
  
Dinah rolled her eyes.  
  
"That's what we thought." Barbara acknowledged without looking up.  
  
Helena joined her at the monitor, "The dead carrying the living," she mused.  
  
"If you reverse that i.e. living carrying the dead you have pall bearers," Barbara said, "I need coffee," she sighed, "these things give me a headache."  
  
Alfred took his cue and headed off for the kitchen.  
  
"Pallbearers carry coffins," Helena continued following the train of thought.  
  
"Which are made of wood," added Reese.  
  
"So are boats!" Dinah said triumphantly, "Dead carrying the living, which must mean that the water referred to in the first riddle must be the sea!"  
  
"It could be a river," Barbara said, "The third one doesn't fit that pattern boats don't go round in circles."  
  
"Unless you're crossing the globe." Reese mused.  
  
"Forget the boats for a moment," Helena said, "I go round in circles", it's gotta be a wheel, and what wheel do you associate with being rich or poor, and wanting more?"  
  
"Roulette!" Everyone said in chorus.  
  
"Okay, so how does this tell us the where and when?" Reese queried.  
  
"If I may," said Alfred, suddenly reappearing bearing a tray of coffee, cream and sugar, "an invitation arrived in the morning post at the manor."  
  
Setting down the tray, Alfred removed an envelope from the inner pocket of his jacket.  
  
"Here we are, an invitation to a charity casino night on board "The Princess Rouge."  
  
"It say's dinner is $500-00 a plate!" Exclaimed Helena looking over Alfred's shoulder.  
  
"The proceeds are for famine relief and medical aid," Alfred explained, "It's an annual event, invitation only to the cream of New Gotham's elite."  
  
"That's our where and when," Barbara confirmed.  
  
"Great," said Dinah, "what are we gonna wear?"  
  
"We?" Helena looked at her.  
  
Dinah glared back, "yeah, we!"  
  
"Er Dinah, you can't go to a casino your underage." Barbara reminded her.  
  
Helena tried not to look too smug, but she couldn't help herself. Avoiding Dinah's gaze she helped herself to coffee.  
  
"That's tomorrow!" Barbara exclaimed looking at the invite. "Do you know what the security arrangements will be?" She asked looking at Reese.  
  
"I can find out." He confirmed.  
  
Helena meanwhile was helping herself to cream when the jug mysteriously tipped itself forward, spilling its contents onto her clothes.  
  
Helena cursed.  
  
"Whoops!" said Dinah with a mischievous grin, trying not to look too smug.  
  
***** 


	4. All Bets Are Off

Riddled With Bullets  
  
Chapter Four  
  
"All Bets Are Off!"  
BLAM!BLAM!BLAM!BLAM! BLAM!BLAM!BLAM!BLAM!  
  
A rattle of bullets hit the upper deck and for a moment the whole casino froze.  
  
"Ladies and Gentleman!" A figure in green announced, "all bets are off!"  
  
The Riddler jumped up onto the nearest gaming table amid a horde of screams. He wore wraparound shades a long leather trench coat, khaki pants and matching top, all finished off with a pair of steel toe capped boots. He had clearly taken some fashion advice during his time off! The obligatory black question marks were still peppered all over his clothes, which were an entirely matching, set of pale green.  
  
There was a reload click from his question mark cane and someone yelled for security.  
  
"Good idea!" Riddler smiled.  
  
Security guards were placed at every exit, and at almost every gaming table, they were all armed and every single weapon was pointing at The Riddler.  
  
From their vantage point at the edge of the room Helena and Reese held back to let security handle it. It had been a long night on The Princess Rouge, and they had both been convinced that The Riddler was going to be a no show.  
  
They had arrived two hours earlier at Miller Harbour; Alfred had chauffeured them in the old Wayne limo and like movie stars Helena and Reese had walked down a red carpet shielding their faces from the clicking papparazi. Who not knowing them from Adam had concentrated their lenses on a glamour model, and her wealthy fiancé in front. So they ascended the steps to the awaiting ship in relative anonymity.  
  
The ship in question, The Princess Rouge was a retired cruise liner, whose long haul days were far behind it. Rather than see it go to waste the cruise ship had been brought to New Gotham where it remained moored at Miller Harbour most of the year round.  
  
Back in the day when hosting any kind of fundraiser in a city as crime ridden as New Gotham was considered a large risk, the turnout to such events had gradually dwindled away, it was safer to stay at home and write a check than risk death at the hands of Two-Face, Joker, or any of the other assorted costumed loons that regularly held the city to ransom, and nabbed the proceeds.  
  
So it was no surprise that the proposal of a cruise out of town was considered by all to be a wonderful alternative, guests by invitation only and staff alike were thoroughly screened, and the evenings became both a great success and a must on the social calendar for the wealthiest of all New Gothamites.  
  
The trip would last five hours, with dinner, dancing, and of course gambling as the rouge made its way north towards Bludhaven and beyond. In spite of it's consignment to this comparatively mediocre chore, The Princess Rouge which had regularly in its day toured the globe could still get up to twenty knots,  
  
".440 feet long and 68 feet wide, with five decks eight escalators, and a public area of seventy five thousand feet!" The tannoy announcer cooed to anyone that cared to listen.  
  
Helena and Reese were definitely amongst the "not cares" to them the tannoy was just noise, they had already been over the schematics with Barbara at least a dozen times.  
  
"So does this count as a first date?" Reese smiled, whilst security searched the small bag Helena had brought with her.  
  
Helena looked at him admiring once again the cut of his tux, almost as much as Reese returned the compliment on the small figure hugging designer black dress she had chosen for the evening. Needless to say the all essential Huntress necklace and earrings were also in vogue this season!  
  
"Don't get distracted guys!" Oracle's voice boomed into their online coms.  
  
"Complete with virtual chaperone!" Helena smirked. The security guard motioned for them to pass through and they entered the lavishly decorated casino.  
  
Reese glanced around; he didn't like just going in to a situation with no backup. He had called in sick tonight, and was regretting his decision not to involve the department. Still as yet there was no sign of anything sinister, "just people waiting to be shown to their tables." He muttered.  
  
"Good," Helena sighed, "I'm starving!"  
  
Reese shook his head in disbelief, how could she think of food at a time like this? When any moment a madman was going to spring up and do god knows what.  
  
"Aren't you the least bit worried?"  
  
"No," Helena shrugged, "if I don't like it I'll just send it back to the Chef!"  
  
*****  
Even Barbara smirked upon hearing that one, Alfred whom it seemed was finding more and more excuses to hang around the Clock Tower was glad to see a sign that Barbara was gradually returning to something resembling her former self. He nodded approval to Dinah who had also caught it, and an unspoken expression of relief passed between them.  
  
Barbara looked up as if noticing them for the first time.  
  
"Dinah I'm sorry you couldn't go."  
  
"That's okay," Dinah shrugged.  
  
"But I may have something for you!"  
  
"Okay," Dinah came over to the monitor where a picture of a well dressed conceited looking man at what appeared to be a press conference dominated the screen.  
  
"This is Roland Cameron," Barbara explained, "He's a defence attorney whose services are currently being employed by Dr Quinzel."  
  
Dinah nodded.  
  
"The name rang bells with me, I'm not sure if it's a coincidence or not but Mr Cameron also represents one Edward Nygma!"  
  
"You think Nygma's working for Dr Quinzel?"  
  
"It's possible," Barbara confirmed, "you know, with her connections at Arkham Asylum who knows how many people she has loyal to her there? Either working or incarcerated." She paused, "you know I think she was responsible for letting Clayface out, and a lot of other thing besides."  
  
"Such as?" Dinah pressed.  
  
"I don't know yet, but I'll keep digging, in the meantime I want you to check Mr Cameron out, he works late," She handed Dinah the address. "Get talking to him, see if you can read anything off him, I'm just not comfortable with the coincidence."  
  
*****  
  
The dinner had been just fine, even Reese managed to find a little of his appetite as they both tucked into steamed lobster. The gaming tables had opened an hour after into the cruise, and people were gradually finishing up their meals and making their way over towards the fun.  
  
Helena and Reese had decided to take a casual walk around the Casino's perimeter, even trying their luck at the tables. Agreeing beforehand to donate any winnings to the charity. They needn't have worried they were both lousy gamblers and soon decided to call it quits. Besides, Alfred had already written a sizeable bankers draft donation from The Wayne family funds, which they had handed over earlier.  
  
Relaxing in each other's company for the first time since they had met, and even forgetting that Oracle might be listening, they began to chat about music they both liked and movies they had seen. The lounge singer sang old ballads at a grand piano and they even joined the old folks on the floor and danced.  
  
The evening was perfect, they smiled at each other slowly their faces came together as with eyes closed they searched for each others lips.  
  
The mark of a true villain is in knowing how to ruin a good moment, and so it was at this point that the figure in green strode into the room and began shooting at the ceiling. Helena stared in disbelief, could it really be Uncle Edward? Could Alfred have been right after all? She broke away from Reese and headed over to get a better look. Reese followed close and stopped her from going any further.  
  
"Let security handle it for now," Barbara ordered.  
  
Peering intently at the green clad figure Helena noted that the hairline and what could be seen of the face beneath those wraparound shades, resembled Uncle Edward, yet this Riddler seemed younger somehow.  
  
The Security guards covering the tables were advancing towards The Riddler. One of them asked him to drop his weapon.  
  
"You mean this?" Riddler enquired twirling his cane like Fred Astaire. "I don't think so."  
  
In his other hand he produced a remote.  
  
"This is a detonator, I suggest that YOU drop your weapons, or we all go boom-boom!"  
  
The security guards complied.  
  
"Good now if you could just wait while my lovely assistants Query and Echo pick up the pieces, then we shall begin the nights festivities."  
  
From the end of the room two blonde girls in green lycra appeared carrying trashbags which they filled with the downed weapons.  
  
"Is this part of the entertainment?" Said a guy propping up the bar.  
  
"No but this is!" Replied The Riddler and promptly shot him.  
  
This was followed by more screams and The Riddler had to shoot the deck above again to get things quiet.  
  
"You're giving me a headache!" He moaned.  
  
Query and Echo finished gathering up the guns and joined Riddler at his table.  
  
"Okay folks, it's question time!" The Riddler boomed, "And my first question tonight is;  
  
Lovely and round,  
  
I shine with pale light,  
  
grown in the darkness,  
  
A lady's delight. What am I?"  
  
The Riddler paused and jumped off the table.  
  
Helena and Reese discreetly moved a little further forward.  
  
"And that question," The Riddler continued, "goes to the lovely lady over there!"  
  
And so saying he pointed into the crowd at an older lady decorated in expensive jewellery.  
  
The lady gasped as The Riddler advanced towards her.  
  
"The clocks ticking lady," The Riddler raised his cane, "What is your answer?"  
  
"I-I d-don't know," The lady stammered.  
  
"Confused?" The Riddler said, "Head feeling cloudy perhaps? Well don't worry I have just the thing to clear your head." And he aimed the cane at her forehead.  
  
"The answer is a pearl!" Came a voice from the other end of the room, it was Helena.  
  
The Riddler turned to face her giving no hint of recognition.  
  
"Correct!" He confirmed, "but I asked her not you!"  
  
He twirled the cane and stuck it through some loops at the back of his trench coat. The question mark at the hilt of the cane now loomed over his left shoulder.  
  
With one hand now free he grabbed a string of pearls from around the lady's neck.  
  
"The answer is indeed a pearl!"  
  
With that he pulled at the necklace, the chain snapped, the lady screamed, and the pearls scattered everywhere onto the floor.  
  
"What do you want Riddler?" Helena asked.  
  
"I ask the questions round here!" The Riddler barked, "nice dress by the way," he commented, "here's a question for you, what's black and red and full of lead?"  
Helena saw it coming, the shape of her eyes shifted taking on a more feline appearance and as The Riddler pulled out his cane she was already flipping backwards before the first of his deadly bullets let rip.  
  
Pandemoniums ensued and as the crowd tried to run many were hit by the stray shots. Security tried desperately to calm everyone down but to no avail. The panic reached a crescendo when the crowd realised that all exits had been sealed.  
  
The rip of bullets continued as Helena flipped away always inches ahead of the cane's deadly spray. Reese was running towards The Riddler desperately trying to make his way through the crowd. He was unarmed, and would never have got on the boat otherwise.  
  
Helena on the other hand was armed to the teeth, her weapons more subtly disguised. The make up and accessory container in her bag was a fully equipped arsenal. When The Riddler's spray of bullets finally came to an end, Helena landing effortlessly on her feet, reached into the make up compact and pressed a release switch.  
  
On close examination of the smooth round metal container that appeared to carry make up, one could see it was decorated on both sides with the crest of a hawks head. On pressing the release switch these pieces both came away to reveal two customised "rangs". Helena let rip and sent one straight for the detonator in Riddler's hand. The device no bigger than a small cell phone went sailing across everybody's heads to the other side of the room.  
  
The Riddler screamed in frustration shaking his hand in pain. Reese who was almost upon The Riddler by this time instantly changed track and went for the detonator. He heard the sharp reload click of Riddler's cane and prayed that Helena had too.  
  
The second "rang" hit Riddler's other hand and the cane fell to the floor. Helena had leapt into the air flipped midway and landed both feet into The Riddler's chest.  
  
Reese was meanwhile was too late, one of The Riddler's blonde assistants had managed to retrieve the detonator.  
  
Oblivious to this Helena ripped the shades from The Riddler's eyes.  
  
"You're not The Riddler who are you?" She screamed.  
  
The figure in green smiled back at her, "now thereby lies a riddle."  
  
Helena slapped him, "yeah? Well come on then, what's your story?" She banged his head against the floor, "not clever enough to come up with something original? Is that it? Huh? Answer me you."  
  
"That's enough Helena you'll kill him!" Barbara screamed down the com.  
  
"And your point is?" Helena retorted.  
  
"Lady your seriously nuts!" It was the other blonde assistant she was holding the cane to Helena's head. "Get off him now!"  
  
Helena reluctantly complied.  
  
"Okay!" The blonde shouted addressing the room, "me and my friend are going to come round with some sacks and I want everyone to throw their cash, jewels, and other valuables inside."  
  
The "Riddler" was back on his feet and the blonde handed the cane back to him.  
  
"Interesting little toys you have," he muttered, as Query and Echo began relieving the guests of their valuables.  
  
"If you were the real Riddler you would know what they were!" Helena replied. She subtly acknowledged Reese and a look of understanding passed between them.  
  
What Helena silently communicated was "stay put I have this under control."  
  
"Oh I'm for real alright," The Riddler hissed.  
  
"Well your not Edward Nygma," Helena laughed, "I met the real Riddler the other night!"  
  
"That fake!" The Riddler spat, "let me tell you something little miss do gooder I'm the Riddler, the one and only, and don't you ever forget it!"  
  
"Yeah whatever, it's your fantasy!"  
  
"And who might I ask are you trying to be?" The Riddler retorted, "you're no Batman!"  
  
"Okay Riddler we're done!" One of the girls called.  
  
The Riddler smiled at Helena, "To be continued!" He shoved her back towards Reese, "Well ladies and gentlemen that concludes our business for tonight! But I shall leave you with one more question, what lies at the bottom of the sea and shakes?"  
  
He looked around, "anyone?"  
  
"The answer is a nervous wreck!" Helena replied.  
  
The Riddler smiled, "I knew there was a reason I didn't kill you."  
  
He was heading towards the kitchen along with his two companions.  
  
"Once again the lady is correct! A nervous wreck is what you all shall be, in a few in a while from now, hit it Query!" He nodded towards the girl with the detonator.  
  
"I thought I was supposed to be Echo!" She protested.  
  
"Yeah whatever," Riddler acknowledged sarcastically, "just blow the hull plese?"  
  
And with that, they were out the kitchen; Helena caught the sound of an outside engine in the direction of the starboard, just before the hull blew.  
  
The ship lurched to one side and once again there were screams.  
  
"Help me get the fire exit open!" Helena shouted to Reese as they fought their way through the panic stricken crowd to the doors.  
  
"They're electronically sealed," explained a security guard.  
  
But Helena and Reese already knew this. It was a precaution taken when the ship moored back at New Gotham, the doors remained time locked sealing in the guests until the night's proceeds had been safely taken off the ship and placed in an armoured security van. Clearly The Riddler had overridden the system. Helena took out some plastique from her compact and placed it on the doors.  
  
"Get everyone to stay back and lie on the floor," she told the guards, "this is going to blow!"  
  
The ship lurched again and suddenly everyone was on the floor anyway. The doors blew open and Helena grabbed Reese, mindful of the inevitable stampede and got him out the door before anyone else had a chance to react.  
  
"Starboard side!" she called dashing off, "They've got a speedboat waiting!"  
  
Reese shrugged feeling pretty much like a spare part, "if you say so!"  
  
But by the time they got to the starboard side all that remained was a steady stream of white water where the boat had cut it's path back in the direction of New Gotham.  
  
"What now?" Reese asked.  
  
"I guess we better get to the lifeboats." Helena replied.  
  
"I've alerted the coast guard," Oracle's voice came over their coms, "don't fell bad," she added, "you did well both of you."  
  
"I did better than you think!" Helena said triumphantly, "I planted a tracer on The Riddler's coat."  
  
***** 


	5. Interlude

Interlude  
  
An Extract From Riddle Me This? The Autobiography Of Edward Nygma.  
  
And so dear reader I embarked upon a life of crime. I was called a maniac, public enemy number one, and a costumed loon, amongst other things. Then one day, I knew I had made it! It was the first time I appeared in court, the media called me a Super Villain! A criminal genius! I was over the moon.  
  
I was still smiling when they sent me to Arkham, and put me in the category A wing along with the likes of Two-Face, Joker, Poison Ivy, and all the rest of the gang. It was funny in many ways, when we were all doing our thing at large in the city; we were mad, bad, and dangerous to know. But In Arkham, it was like we were Actors off stage resting in the green room waiting for our next scene.  
  
This might seem a strange thing to say, but it's true. Harvey Dent AKA Two- Face is a really sweet guy when you get to know him, the same can be said for my good friend Professor Jonathan Crane AKA The Scarecrow. And many of the others, of whom I will speak of in further chapters. But if you meet them on the outside things are different, we all seek to be top dog.  
  
For this reason I very rarely collaborated with other super-villains, but I once made the mistake of working with The Joker. This was way back before he muscled in on Rupert Thorne and took control of the mob. Back then he was the biggest, baddest, super villain of them all. A Complete psychotic Joker would kill just for the hell of it. Monetary gain came lower on the list of his priorities.  
  
One thing I can honestly say, I have never been labelled as a killer. Frankly it's just not in my nature but what about the fancy cane with all the bullets? I hear you cry. Well that was just for show. You go into a bank and spray bullets at the ceiling with that thing believe me everyone's on the floor. Everyone cooperates! So for me killing was never really necessary.  
  
Well at least not as far as civilians were concerned.  
  
Vigilantes on the other hand I considered to be fair game, basically anyone crazy enough to put on a cape and tights and try and stop people like me, knew what they were getting into. And to be quite honest, I never managed to kill any of those either! As far as death-traps were concerned (and I devised a great many) I played it fair, if you could deduce the riddle then it would tell you how to escape.  
  
And Batman and his cohorts always managed to escape, and I always knew they would! killing them wasn't the point, the best I could hope for was to delay them long enough to make my get away. So I never stuck around once I sprung one of those traps, I just got the hell out!  
This is where The Joker and I differed in our outlook on crime; In Arkham Joker was the only one you could never be sure of. When he was allowed to mix with the rest of us you were always on your guard. He was always making trouble, although sometimes he could be terribly funny.  
  
One thing we did have in common was that we both had a lot of trouble recruiting henchmen, speaking for myself, not many people wanted to work for a super villain whose stock in trade was to send clues to the cops! And as for The Joker most of his henchmen ended up dead, and so to cut a long story short we broke out of Arkham and teamed up.  
  
It was a diamond heist as I recall, we hit the place at midnight, Joker massacred the security guards thought it was a real hoot, then of course Batman and half of The Gotham PD turned up and surrounded the place, on account of the fact that they had managed to solve the riddle I sent them.  
  
Joker was not best pleased to learn that I had "tipped off the cops," as he put it.  
  
But hey I'm The Riddler this is what I do! I set puzzles, you guess the clues then you guess where I'm going to strike. The Joker didn't quite see it that way and tried to kill me, and nearly succeeded too it was the first and only time I was ever really glad to see The Batman show up when he did.  
  
Needless to say Joker and I never really saw eye to eye since.  
  
But the best collaboration I ever had with a super villain was with Catwoman! throughout the years she was a very dear and sweet friend. And as her real identity is not a matter of public record, it is out of respect for her and her family that her confidentiality will be respected.  
  
You know who you are, and if you ever read these pages just think of shark infested custard and smile!  
  
Once Joker got his hands on Thorne's empire things in New-Gotham just got done his way. You couldn't operate there without giving him a share of your loot; it was one of the reasons I quit. Since that time I feel villains in New-Gotham have become more brutal. Unprofessional, and definitely not as stylish as yours truly, they seem to play by a set of rules that is completely alien to me. Of course Joker's empire is gone now, and he's been shipped upstate, but nevertheless his brutality has cast a long shadow over the city, and I think we're still in its shade.  
  
***** 


	6. Chapter 5 An Hour's Start

Riddled With Bullets  
  
Chapter Five  
  
"An Hour's Start."  
  
Roland Cameron was not feeling well. He had been blacking out and found himself unable to account for lost time. The first time it happened he had woken up in his office with no idea of how he got there. The last thing he remembered was a meeting in Arkham with Dr Quinzel beyond that it was all a blur.  
  
Nevertheless he had tried in vain to get on with some work, his eyes skimmed over various legal papers without really taking anything in. It wasn't long before his eyes started to glaze over and gradually Roland succumbed to sleep.  
  
And that was how Dinah found him slumped over his desk. If it weren't for the fact that Roland snored, she would've thought he was dead. Dinah had arrived at the building to find the main door wide open. Never a good sign in New Gotham, at this time of night. At Oracle's insistence Dinah had entered with caution and basically followed the sound of Roland's snores.  
  
Roland was well and truly out for the count.  
  
Dinah relaxed her guard. "Okay I'm in, what do I do?"  
  
"Can you log onto his computer?" Oracle instructed, "I need to trace his IP."  
  
Careful not to disturb Roland, Dinah booted up his pc, which inevitably at logon, prompted her for a password.  
  
"Okay," Oracle smiled knowing how uneasy Dinah could be around computers, "welcome to hacking class 101!"  
  
Oracle paused to let Dinah groan.  
  
"Have you got the disc I gave you?"  
  
Roland was beginning to stir.  
  
"Isn't there a quicker way?" Dinah pleaded uneasily.  
  
"Unless you know the password no."  
  
Dinah looked at Roland thoughtfully for a moment.  
  
"Give me a minute." She said.  
  
Gently Dinah took hold of Roland's hand and whilst her nerves informed her brain that the palm she was holding was warm and sweaty, the metagene that triggers her psychic ability sent out waves of its own back down the nerve passages and out into Roland's clammy palm.  
  
For a moment Dinah sensed nothing. then contact was made!  
  
Roland's mind was a mass of contradiction. His long-term memory Dinah could see was tidy, organised, sometimes ruthless but overall ambitious. Yet his recent short-term memory seemed blurred and confused, Dinah saw images and fragments here and there, of events that had taken place over the past few weeks.  
  
The images hit here at a rate and speed to fast too process with a gasp she let go and felt her-self fall back against the wall behind her.  
  
".ake up Dinah.Dinah are you there?"  
  
Dinah shifted uncomfortably as Oracle's voice jolted her back to consciousness. Judging from her watch she had been out for a matter of minutes.  
  
"I'm okay," she confirmed.  
  
"What happened?" Oracle pressed.  
  
But Dinah was typing at the PC, "Roland's password is "Rosebud." She said triumphantly as Windows XP sparkled into life before her.  
  
"How did you."  
  
But Oracle's voice was drowned out as Roland's personalised logon music boomed in 3-d from the speakers either side of his desk. Roland began to stir, and Dinah headed for the door.  
  
"W-who are you?"  
  
Dinah froze, "help," she whispered to Oracle.  
  
"Tell him you're the cleaner!" Oracle said lamely.  
  
Dinah rolled her eyes and turned round.  
  
"Mr Cameron, I'm Sarah your work placement from Gotham High!" She smiled.  
  
"Dinah what are you doing?" Oracle hissed.  
  
"Work placement?" Roland looked confused, had he agreed this?  
  
Dinah continued to smile confidently praying that Roland's short-term memory was sufficiently fuzzed to accept this at face value.  
  
Besides, Dinah thought, Oracle must've scanned his hard drive by now and the necessary paperwork could easily be faked and placed somewhere in the network.  
  
"I saw the lights on and thought I would just pop round and show my face!"  
  
Roland studied her for a moment, and then fumbled about in his desk draw. Dinah braced herself in case Roland pulled out a gun, but his hand emerged clasping a bottle of tablets.  
  
"We have a dress code here young lady," he stated staring pointedly at her leather trench coat, matching top, and trousers.  
  
"Oh I'm.er. going dancing later!" Dinah smiled.  
  
Opening a bottle of mineral water Roland asked, "Remind me when do you start?"  
  
"Er.Tomorrow?" Dinah said lamely.  
  
Roland raised an eyebrow as he placed two tablets on his tongue and swallowed them down with a large gulp from his bottle.  
  
"Well whatever you do, don't show up with a hangover!" He growled.  
  
"No Mr Cameron see you tomorrow!" Dinah smiled and walked out as quickly as she could.  
  
******  
  
It was another hour before Huntress and Reese reached the shore. Together with the other survivors they waited on their lifeboat watching the wreckage of "The Princess Rouge," disappear slowly beneath the waves, until eventually the Coast Guard arrived to take them back to New Gotham. Most people had been accounted for but there were a few injuries and a couple of deaths. Resulting from Riddler's attempt to shoot Huntress. And of course the man at the bar who had been gunned down in cold blood.  
  
"That wasn't Edward Nygma!" Huntress informed Oracle.  
  
"There is a resemblance," Reese observed.  
  
"The guy I confronted at the Plaza had to be at least twenty years older," Huntress's tone was a bit sharp.  
  
"Indiscriminate slaughter is not his usual M.O." Oracle observed.  
  
"What if the Guy you saw at The Plaza last night wasn't the real Edward Nygma?" Reese queried.  
  
But Helena held her tongue; it was Uncle Edward of that she was certain. He would be hauled in for questioning without a doubt; she just had to hope that he had a solid alibi.  
  
Inevitably gatherings of press and camera crews were waiting to descend on the survivors as the boat eased into Miller Harbour.  
  
"Well how are we gonna get through this?" Reese shrugged.  
  
"We aren't," Huntress explained pulling Reese closer, she gave him that kiss they were meant to share earlier. "I'll see you back at the Clocktower!"  
  
And with that she discreetly slipped over the side of the ship.  
  
Reese sighed, "next time we'll just go to the movies."  
  
*****  
  
"This is Summer Gleason live at Miller Harbour where the survivors of "The Princess Rouge" are currently disembarking." The redhead reporter smiled.  
  
"Unconfirmed rumours abound that the ship was sabotaged during a robbery at tonight's charity event!"  
  
Behind her survivors could be seen making their way down the jetty, which Police had cordoned off in an attempt to stave off the press. Ambulances were waiting at the end, and the cordon had to be removed each time one of them needed to get through and make its way to Mercy General.  
  
A few of the more publicity hungry members of New Gotham's elite ignored the ambulances and made their way to the edge of the cordon.  
  
Former Gotham mayor Hamilton Hill was at the forefront and Summer wasted no time in getting his comments.  
  
"It was The Riddler!" He boomed, "he would never have been released in my day, the man's a maniac, people like him and The Joker are cut from the same cloth he should be apprehended and shipped upstate post haste!"  
  
Thrilled at such a wonderful soundbite Summer zoned in on a local and once successful musician desperate to revive his flagging career.  
  
"Did you see The Riddler?" Summer asked.  
  
"Yeah man he was awesome!" The "has been" drawled, "He had this long coat and this really cool gun, he was like.like The Matrix in Green!" He beamed.  
  
*****  
  
Alfred watched the whole farce from his vantage point in an alleyway nearby. The engine was running on Barbara's 4 X 4 and moments later a wet and bedraggled Huntress tapped on the passenger door.  
  
"Alfred this dress is ruined!" Helena moaned as she slid into the seat beside him. Alfred pulled out and headed for the main road.  
  
"I'll take it back to the manor Miss Helena, and see what I can do." He smiled reassuringly. "Fortunately I took the liberty of bringing you a change of clothes."  
  
Helena looked at the back seat where her usual fighting duds were laid out. "Thank you Alfred you're the best!" Helena climbed into the back.  
  
A look of distaste crossed Alfred's face, "might I suggest a shower first?"  
  
"There's no time to go back to the Clock Tower Alfred, our guy has at least an hours head start."  
  
"Your Father's penthouse suite is nearby." Alfred suggested.  
  
"I'll pass!" Helena said tightly and began to change.  
  
"As you wish!" Alfred replied discreetly "in the meantime I'll have to open a window," he sighed as the stench of the harbour filled his nostrils.  
  
"Perhaps two." He added.  
  
*****  
  
Oracle had been ominously quiet on Dinah's way back to the Clocktower. And Dinah didn't need her psychic abilities to know that she was going to get it in the neck.  
  
"Dinah, what were you thinking?" Barbara rounded on her before she even stepped out of the lift.  
  
"I'm sorry I."  
  
"I gave you an instruction!" Oracle glared at her.  
  
"Tell him I was the cleaner?" Dinah glared back. "I saw into his mind he's a mass of confusion, it was a gamble but I was sure he would buy it."  
  
"You have school tomorrow." Barbara said sternly.  
  
"Please Barbara I can do this!"  
  
"What else did you find out?"  
  
After leaving Roland's office Dinah had taken a moment to sift through the fragmented imagery she had absorbed from Roland's mind.  
  
"I saw Doctor Quinzel in his office." She explained. "It was a long meeting there were others too, they came and went throughout the day."  
  
"Did you see Edward Nygma?" Barbara probed, "think hard."  
  
Dinah shook her head, "I'm certain he wasn't there."  
  
Barbara looked at her for a moment, "Well I guess I better call you in sick tomorrow at school." She said with a roll of her eyes.  
  
"There's something else," Dinah added.  
  
Barbara looked at her quizzically.  
  
Dinah took removed a book from the inside pocket of her coat.  
  
"Maybe there's a clue in here, I picked it up on my way home."  
  
It was a copy of Edward Nygma's Autobiography.  
  
"Leave it there for now," Barbara replied, "For now I need you to meet Huntress at a location in Tricorner, that's where our Riddler's tracer leads."  
  
*****  
  
Former Mayor Hamilton Hill's face filled the screen once again as his classic soundbite played on The Gotham News Channel's review of the night's top stories.  
  
"Whoa did you see that?" The Riddler asked of the dead man sitting beside him, "We're famous!"  
  
The dead man made no response.  
  
"You're a real conversation killer you know that?"  
  
Query and Echo were busy at a nearby table they stopped what they were doing and exchanged worried glances.  
  
Back on the news bulletin the musician's matrix analogy was next, and this had The Riddler howling with laughter. Remaining unimpressed, Query and Echo continued to busy themselves with their task ignoring The Riddler who was now stood up on the couch thrusting his crotch in a forward backwards motion still laughing like a maniac.  
  
The dead body silently jiggled up and down whilst Riddler's frantic movements shook the whole couch; finally it fell forward and slumped to the floor.  
  
"You're gonna make me lose count again!" Query (or was it Echo?) Looked up.  
  
The girls were surrounded by bundles of cash, jewels, and other valuables spread out on the table in front. And even without the sum total it was obvious to all that the heist had been extremely profitable.  
  
"My apologies ladies," The Riddler beamed, "But it has to be said that this looks like the beginning of a beautiful relationship."  
  
The Riddler leered at the two blonde girls who stared doubtfully back at him.  
  
Once more the girls exchanged an awkward look.  
  
"What is it?" The Riddler quizzed sounding slightly more subdued.  
  
"It's like we said when you offered us the gig." The prettier of the two began, "we agreed this was gonna be a one off."  
  
"There's enough to go round," the other added gesturing to the pile on the table behind them, "and don't get us wrong it beats hawking your flesh by the subway and all but."  
  
Her voice trailed off as The Riddler glared at her over the rim of his shades.  
  
"But what?" The Riddler asked quietly.  
  
"But if we pull this kind of stunt again," The prettier one responded, "we're all gonna end up in the pen for sure."  
  
"Specially if you keep sending clues to the cops." The other one added.  
  
The Riddler leaped from the couch and landed in front of them.  
  
"But that's the beauty of it!" He was right in their faces. "Don't you see?"  
  
It was obvious that they didn't.  
  
"Fine fine we'll split three ways." The Riddler sighed in exasperation, "You're sure it wasn't something I said?"  
  
The girls shook their heads.  
  
"Well hell with it, looks like we're gonna be here a while," The Riddler said removing his coat. "So we may as well get comfortable."  
  
So saying he flung the coat towards the couch and pulled a chair up at the counting table. Something fell away from the coat as it landed on the couch. A small round object hit the smoothly varnished wood floor and rolled forward briefly before falling flat.  
  
"Looks like you lost a button there." Query or Echo observed dryly.  
  
Riddler cursed the coat had not been cheap. Retrieving the object he was initially relieved to find that it wasn't a button. What he was looking at was a small, silver cylindrical object, with a familiar hawkshead logo either side.  
  
"Same pattern as the necklace that bitch was wearing at the casino." Query or Echo observed.  
  
"What is it?" Echo or Query mused.  
  
Riddler laughed, "Better tidy up girls we're about to have a house guest."  
  
******  
  
Tricorner Island was a once wealthy industrial area, most notably as home to the Tricorner Naval Yard. That was until the bottom fell out of the steel market back in the seventies and the area had become an indirect casualty of economic changes that had ruined such economic stalwarts as the Pennsylvania steel mills. In the wake of financial disaster the US Navy had been forced to decommission the yard in 1975 and things had gone from bad to worse since.  
  
The smaller businesses in the area struggled along and it wasn't long before the criminal element made their move and the once flourishing industrial base rapidly declined as the new regime of protection rackets, drugs, and prostitution became the order of the day.  
  
So when the whole area was levelled during the quake there were many who thought it to be a blessing. The subsequent rebuild had put housing as the number one priority and many cheap affordable apartments had sprung up along the docks.  
  
It was to one such apartment that Oracle had pinpointed the signal from Helena's tracer. And although much of the area had been improved visually the ever-present criminal element was never far from the surface. Ladies of the night called out to the driver of the 4x4 that currently drove at a steady pace through the otherwise deserted streets.  
  
Alfred gladly let Huntress out a block away from The Riddler's suspected hideout where Dinah was waiting for them by a lamppost.  
  
"About time," she scolded, "I've been moved on by the cops twice since I got here and some guy in a pickup asked me to do something disgusting involving a pineapple!"  
  
"Too much information!" Helena shrugged off dismissively.  
  
Dinah wrinkled her nose, "eeeww what is that?"  
  
"It's my new fragrance," Helena snapped, "eau de drowned rat!"  
  
*****  
  
"I'm not staying here to get caught!" Query or Echo screamed at the figure in green who was calmly searching the fridge.  
  
"Ahh cake," he beamed ignoring his companion's hysteria, "perfect."  
  
"You shoulda offed the bitch when you had the chance!" The other one screeched accusingly whilst frantically stuffing money and jewels into a holdall. "Well you can play your stupid games on your own now."  
  
The Riddler placed the cake on the table before turning his attention to his irate blonde companions.  
  
"I'll keep that in mind." The Riddler he replied calmly raising his cane.  
  
And that was last thing either Query or Echo ever heard.  
  
*****  
  
Huntress and Dinah were still a block away busy making their way up to the rooftops when they heard gunfire.  
  
Oracle was giving them directions.  
  
"Dinah hang back and let Huntress deal with The Riddler!" Oracle cautioned.  
  
Huntress leapt for the next roof.  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Dinah sighed as she launched herself behind Huntress, "just leave all the goofy sidekicks to me."  
  
A couple of roofs later they were on top of the building.  
  
"Our man is on the sixth, apartment 62D." Oracle informed them.  
  
Huntress and Dinah made their way quietly down the fire escape.  
  
"According to The architectural plans you want the fourth balcony along from where you are." Oracle informed them when they were at the sixth.  
  
Huntress turned to Dinah, "stay back he's mine." She said tightly.  
  
But Dinah just rolled her eyes.  
  
*****  
  
The sliding door on the balcony was open and beckoned ominously for them to enter. Huntress cautiously moved forward inside the apartment was dark.  
  
Dinah followed at a respectful distance.  
  
Suddenly there was a click and the lights came on.  
  
"Surprise!" The Riddler shouted.  
  
He was at the other end of the room, holding what looked like a piece of string in one hand, with the other he was smoking a cigar.  
  
Three figures sat motionless around a table in the centre of a room. Huntress recognised the two girls from the heist and an unknown well dressed gentleman. All three were clearly dead.  
  
"I knew you were coming so I baked a cake!" The Riddler leered from the other end of the room.  
  
And sure enough Huntress noted, on the table was a cake with what appeared to be a large candle wedged into the top.  
  
It was then that Huntress noticed the string that ran all the way from the end of the candle to The Riddler's hand, and that he was currently burning the end with his cigar.  
  
"I hope you get a real bang out of it!" He sneered as he dropped the now lit fuse to the ground and headed out the front door. Dinah arrived just in time to see him wave as he made his exit.  
  
Huntress was trying to stamp it out until Oracle advised that it wouldn't work.  
  
"You have to get it away from that apartment." Oracle stated.  
  
But the fuse was almost half gone and burning up at an incredible speed, there was no way they could carry it away in time.  
  
"Allow me." Dinah said.  
  
She closed her eyes and the cake began to shudder like some mini earthquake. Suddenly it left the table and seemingly propelled itself towards the balcony and up into the sky. With the ever decreasing fizzing fuse trailing behind it. Dinah grimaced under the strain and felt her legs give way from underneath, she had never tried to send anything this far before, and had no real idea of how far she had actually sent the explosive.  
  
She allowed herself to fall to the floor and continued to push, higher, and higher, "just keep pushing" she thought to herself.  
  
"Keep going," Huntress voice came from somewhere, "you've nearly cleared the roof toops."  
  
The explosion could not have come quick enough; and for the second time that night Dinah felt herself slowly losing consciousness. She was vaguely aware that Huntress had picked her up.  
  
"You did good kid."  
  
And that was the last thing she heard for a while.  
  
***** 


	7. Chapter 6 : What's Green And Locked Up?

Riddled With Bullets  
  
Chapter Six  
  
"What's Green And Locked Up?"  
  
"Edward Nygma!"  
  
The siege on the door continued, Reese was on the point of kicking it down, when the concierge produced the room key.  
  
Standing back whilst the door was unlocked Reese stifled a yawn, it had been a long night and looked like it was about to get even longer.  
  
Once he had got off the boat, Reese had been instantly recognised by his colleagues who were waiting to take witness statements. And after telling them everything he could (leaving out any reference to Huntress) he got a ride back to the precinct. A decision that upon later reflection Reese had to admit had been a big mistake, he had forgotten he was still wearing his tux! Needless to say, McNally and co had a field day with every 007 joke they could come up with.  
  
Reese was grateful for one thing though McNally had covered his ass.  
  
"I told the Chief you called in saying you were feeling a little better," McNally stated after reminding Reese he was supposed to be off sick. "And that I told you not to come in on account of the fact that things were still quiet."  
  
"Okay," Reese thanked him.  
  
"The Chief's a little busy right now anyway," McNally continued, "looks like we're gonna go in and arrest Nygma."  
  
Without another word Reese went straight to the Chief and after a little wrangling wound up leading the arrest.  
  
"Edward Nygma!" Reese barked again at the comatose figure slumped on the couch.  
  
"Wha.?" The figure tried to get up.  
  
"Are you Edward Nygma?" Reese continued, "also known as The Riddler?"  
  
The bedraggled figure on the couch seemed to indicate that he was.  
  
Reese noted that coincidentally Nygma was also wearing a tux. The figure on the couch let out a long sigh, Reese noted that his breath stank of alcohol.  
  
"Edward Nygma I'm arresting you on suspicion of Murder, Armed Robbery."  
  
But if Nygma heard the rest he gave no indication. He simply turned back over and resumed his drunken slumber.  
  
Reese didn't bother to read the rest of the charges he stood back whilst the two uniforms he had brought with him helped Nygma to his feet.  
  
Reese turned to the concierge still peering curiously from the doorway.  
  
"Can we get some coffee up here?" He asked, "enough for two."  
  
*****  
  
The face of the New Gotham Clock Tower was still boarded up. And shards of shattered glass could still be found on the balcony even though it was almost a fortnight since Dr Quinzel's siege.  
  
The telltale crystal like fragments glistened under the moonlight as Alfred busily swept a broom over the surface for the umpteenth time that week. Huntress carrying Dinah in her arms suddenly appeared on the balcony's edge.  
  
Anyone else would've jumped out of their skin, but Alfred merely glanced up from his chore and acknowledged the girls with a smile.  
  
"Miss Dinah's room has been prepared." He informed Huntress.  
  
Huntress thanked the ever-faithful old man that she had come to think of as a surrogate Grandfather and took Dinah inside.  
  
Barbara looked up from her book, "Is she okay?"  
  
Huntress nodded, "I think it just wiped her out but yeah she's fine."  
  
Barbara nodded and returned to her reading.  
  
After having settled Dinah in for the night Huntress returned to the main room, which served as their operations centre. She noted that Barbara was still reading her book.  
  
"No sign of Reese?" Huntress/Helena enquired.  
  
"He's at the precinct," Barbara informed her.  
  
Reese was still wearing his com link and Barbara (in between tracking the Riddler and guiding Huntress and Dinah,) had managed to listen in occasionally.  
  
"He brought in Edward Nygma."  
  
"What?" Helena's face was a picture of disbelief.  
  
"You seem surprised," Barbara observed closing the book.  
  
It was then that Helena noticed the books cover; it was of course Nygma's biography.  
  
"Interesting read?" Helena asked trying to appear casual.  
  
"It's typically over sentimental for a former public menace trying to reinvent himself as a loveable rogue." Barbara sighed, "I have to say though it's very well written." Barbara paused and looked squarely at Helena, "very informative in fact."  
  
"I see," Helena replied a little tensely "so er.you don't think he's on the level?"  
  
"Did you know that both Nygma and Dr Quinzel share the same attorney?" Barbara enquired.  
  
Helena shrugged, "so?"  
  
"You don't find that coincidence worrying in any way at all?" Barbara probed.  
  
Helena began to pace "what I find worrying is your obsession over trying to nail some poor old guy who just wants to get on with his life!"  
  
"Obsession!" Barbara spat out the word; "We've just put away a criminal mastermind who aside from the fact that she killed my boyfriend, was responsible for manipulating and engineering most of the major crime sprees that we have ever had to face. In addition to this she was a principal pschychiatrist at the institution where she is now detained, and from where Edward Nygma has just been released."  
  
"Arkham Asylum is a revolving door," Helena countered, "that doesn't necessarily mean there's a connection."  
  
"Dr Quinzel manipulates her patients, you of all people should know that! Did you ever wonder how Clayface managed to break out?" Barbara shrugged, "all those years in high security and he manages to show up at his son's heist? Just like that?"  
  
Helena was visibly shaken by both the mention of Clayface (her mothers killer), and the reminder that she too had been a patient of Dr. Quinzel. Helena still blamed herself for the fact that she had willingly under the guise of therapy disclosed her past and the secrets of the Clock Tower to their archenemy.  
  
After a moment Helena replied, "Nygma was paroled what does this have to do with him?"  
  
Barbara glared at her, "okay, maybe something, and maybe nothing but at least I'm open to the possibility, I think a better question would be what has Edward Nygma got to do with you?"  
  
"What do you mean?" Helena stammered.  
  
"Does the phrase "Shark Infested Custard" mean anything to you?"  
  
It was Helena's turn to glare. "Should it?"  
  
Barbara just stared back, "Why don't you tell me!"  
  
Helena was struck dumb; with an almost childlike quality she cast her eyes at the floor shifting her weight guiltily between feet.  
  
After a moment Barbara opened Nygma's book, "allow me to refresh your memory."  
  
"The best collaboration I ever had with a super villain was with Catwoman!" Barbara began to recite, " Throughout the years she was a very dear and sweet friend. And as her real identity is not a matter of public record, it is out of respect for her and her family that her confidentiality will be respected."  
  
Barbara paused, "You know who you are, and if you ever read these pages just think of shark infested custard and smile!"  
  
Barbara flung down the book.  
  
"He is my Uncle," Helena explained through gritted teeth, "what do you want me to say?"  
  
"Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
"Gee I don't know," Helena shrugged, "maybe it's because this is the way I expected you to react! People can change Barbara, my mother did, and I believe my Uncle Edward can too!"  
  
"We'll see," said Barbara.  
  
"Yeah," responded Helena, "now if you don't mind I'm heading off home, I have an early start tomorrow."  
  
"This conversation is not over!" Barbara screamed as Helena headed for the door.  
  
Helena switched off her com, "it is now!"  
  
And with that she got into the lift.  
  
A cough came from the direction of the balcony it was Alfred.  
  
Barbara turned towards him. "Was I too harsh?"  
  
Alfred shrugged, "perhaps a little."  
  
"All these years she never said." Barbara paused, "what did she mean she has an early start?"  
  
"Ah!" Said Alfred pointedly; "I believe she promised to assist Mr Gibson in the refurbishment of his underground drinking establishment."  
  
Barbara sighed, "oh."  
  
"If I may point out Miss Barbara," Alfred continued, "we all know The Riddler and what he is capable of, but I think only Miss Helena knows Edward Nygma."  
  
"Meaning?" Barbara challenged.  
  
"Meaning that perhaps Miss Helena's instincts are correct."  
  
*****  
  
"State your name for the purpose of the tape." Reese Barked.  
  
The man sitting opposite confirmed his name as, "Edward Nygma."  
  
"You understand why you are here don't you Mr Nygma?"  
  
The man called Edward Nygma took a casual sip of the murky looking liquid from the Styrofoam cup in front of him, his face contorted in disgust.  
  
"You know you really have to do something about your coffee here, take it from me the stuff in the asylum is freeze dried but even that tastes good in comparison."  
  
"Mr Nygma," Reese tried again summoning every ounce of patience he could muster, "do you understand why you are here?"  
  
"Oh I understand just fine son, one moment I'm asleep and the next I'm hauled in here on a trumped up charge. What I don't understand is why you still insist on stocking your beverage dispenser with the same cheap crap you've been using for almost twenty years! Nice tux by the way."  
  
"You usually sleep on the couch?" Reese enquired.  
  
"I was on my way to the bedroom but obviously I never made it," Edward Nygma gave a wry smile, "Besides it's nearer to the bathroom, anyway can I call my lawyer now please?"  
  
"In a moment," Reese confirmed, "I notice that your also wearing a nice tux Mr Nygma, were you by any chance on "The Princess Rouge" tonight?"  
  
"On her?" Edward Nygma feigned shock, "I've never met her!"  
  
It was Reese's turn to smile, "It's a boat, or more accurately was a boat."  
  
Edward Nygma looked puzzled, "Young man I have no idea what you're talking about, what happened did this boat sink?"  
  
Reese nodded, "following a heist by someone dressed in green calling himself The Riddler."  
  
"What?" Nygma's face was a mask of fury. "I want my lawyer now!"  
  
Reese studied the figure in front of him. It clearly wasn't the same man he had seen on the "Princess Rouge" earlier that night. The man in front of him whilst not dissimilar was older, greyer, and slightly heavier. Nevertheless he decided to continue his bad cop routine and lean heavy.  
  
"Looks like your gonna need one Riddler!" Reese snapped, "riddle me this, what's green and locked up?"  
  
"Hell son, that bad cop routine of yours needs some work, it's not even close." Edward Nygma replied with contempt. "First of all if you know anything about me at all you would know that if I choose to commit a crime I let the whole world know about it!"  
  
Edward Nygma paused. "The Princess Rouge you said?"  
  
Reese nodded.  
  
"I remember now, that's the fund raising boat, an invitation only affair right?"  
  
"Right." Reese confirmed.  
  
"And you want to know if I was there?"  
  
Again Reese confirmed that he did.  
  
"Okay Mr bad cop ask yourself this, if you were arranging an invitation only fundraiser on a secure boat out of town designed to deter any super villains from heisting the proceeds," and again Nygma paused, "WHY IN THE HELL WOULD YOU INVITE ME ALONG?"  
  
Reese looked at his watch and stopped the tape, "let me show you something Mr Nygma."  
  
A small television sat in one corner of the room. Reese had brought it in prior to the interview. He switched it onto the news channel still leading with The Riddler as their top story.  
  
Again the bulletin segued through the same old footage and finished with the quote from the flagging rock star, "He had this long coat and this really cool gun, he was like.like The Matrix in Green!"  
  
Reese switched the bulletin off.  
  
"I'll ask you once again Mr Nygma were you on "The Princess Rouge" tonight?"  
  
"No, are you charging me?"  
  
"That depends," Reese responded, "If it wasn't you then where were you at the time? And can anyone corroborate your story?"  
  
"Well I got a couple of questions first," Edward Nygma responded, "firstly "The Riddler" is now a registered trademark, so when you catch this wannabe fake I wish to sue for copyright infringement, defamation of my good character, and generally pissing me off, is that possible?"  
  
Reese just looked at him, "What's your second question Mr Nygma?"  
  
Edward Nygma frowned, "What is the Matrix?"  
  
Reese just shook his head, "Man you really have been locked up for a long time haven't you?"  
  
*****  
  
"Miss Dinah."  
  
Dinah stirred from under her quilt. Alfred was standing before her bed.  
  
"Ahh good morning Miss Dinah," Alfred continued, "feeling better?"  
  
Dinah was still a little woozy, and having checked the time on her bedside clock rather alarmed to see that it was only seven am.  
  
"What are you doing here?" She murmured.  
  
"Oracle has instructed me to help you prepare." Alfred explained.  
  
Dinah noted Alfred was carrying a tray bearing the former butler's speciality "full English breakfast" containing sausages, bacon, egg, mushroom, English muffin, various condiments, and a pot of fresh ground coffee.  
  
"Prepare for what?" (Obesity by the looks of it!) Dinah thought to herself.  
  
"Your undercover mission with Roland Cameron," Alfred explained.  
  
Dinah shot up from the bed sitting bolt upright. She had totally forgotten!  
  
"You have a briefing with Oracle in thirty minutes." Alfred explained placing the tray on the bedside table. "Bon appetite!"  
  
*****  
  
Twenty-five minutes later Dinah was fed, dressed, and ready. She waited patiently for Barbara/Oracle to finish her phone call.  
  
"So what did she say?" Barbara enquired.  
  
"Not much," the voice on the other end responded, "just that she had to bow out this morning, that something had come up."  
  
"Okay Gibson thanks." Barbara was about to hang up but Gibson continued.  
  
"You couldn't let Dinah have a day off school could you? I've still got a lot of wreckage here and I could really use her telekinesis."  
  
"I'm sorry Gibson Dinah's otherwise engaged for the moment."  
  
"Well worth a shot." Gibson hung up.  
  
Barbara and Dinah exchanged a guilty look; Gibson's business had been shut down for two weeks now since Dr Quinzell had trashed it. During which time Gibson had set aside his personal issues (he couldn't claim off insurance for damage to an unlicensed and therefore illegal underground bar for meta humans), and selflessly assisted in cleaning up the recent damage to the Clock Tower following the final confrontation with Dr Quinzell.  
  
"I'll go down and help him after we bag The Riddler," Dinah confirmed.  
  
Barbara nodded, "Okay you are Sarah Stokes, after you graduate you hope to study law at Harvard."  
  
Barbara handed Dinah an envelope.  
  
"Grades and references." She explained.  
  
Barbara looked over Dinah's clothes approvingly, a smart dark business jacket, matching skirt, and white blouse.  
  
"You need glasses!" Barbara added producing a small neatly styled pair in oval frame. "These have an inbuilt camera," she added, "can take still photographs and provide me with online visual footage."  
  
Dinah's eyes started to glaze as Barbara went through the operating instructions.  
  
*****  
  
Peter Nashton woke up in a cold sweat following a fitful night of unrest full of disturbing dreams. He shivered as the cold morning air wafted through the makeshift cardboard barrier he had placed yesterday over his damaged window.  
  
Through half shut eyes he fumbled around for his bed sheets realising that he must've kicked them of during the throes of one of his nightmares.  
  
Clutching the sheets and blankets to his person Peter shuddered at what fragments of detail he could recall from his night of unrest. He had been dressed in green, and pursued; he remembered something about a boat, some cake and bullets. He had been firing the bullets and enjoying every minute of it. People had died.  
  
Hell with it, Peter thought to himself, it was just a dream. He rolled over and shifted about until he was comfortable, his half closed eyes caught sight of something green, and nervously he rubbed them before taking a closer look.  
  
A gasp escaped his lips and his eyes went wide with horror at what he saw.  
  
There was a green trenchcoat top, trousers, and boots, all riddled with decorative question marks. And lying on top of this pile was a cane with a question mark shaped handle. All just as they appeared in the dream.  
  
Except it wasn't a dream Peter suddenly realised, was it?  
  
He was sitting bolt upright now.  
  
Was it? Peter didn't know for sure the events of the past few days were fuzzy at best, a tear rolled down his cheek as nervously he cradled his trembling legs to his chest, and rested his chin on his knees.  
  
And for some strange reason that Peter couldn't understand, he began singing in a low scared voice.  
  
"I'm H.A.P.P.Y!"  
"I know I am,  
I'm sure I am  
I'm H.A.P.P.Y!"  
  
*****  
  
Life for Dr. Quinzel had begun to get interesting again. As a category A prisoner she was forbidden contact with other inmates. Television, her sole window to the outside world, had gone a great way to breaking up the monotony and tedium of Arkham life.  
  
In the privacy of her cell she was allowed to take off the dark shades used to safeguard against her mind control ability. She had to put them on whenever meals were brought in or if a guard, nurse, or Doctor required entry to her cell. Failure to comply meant that a powerful dosage of sleeping gas would be pumped through a vent in the ceiling.  
  
Dr Quinzel was currently wearing the shades.  
  
"Let's go Quinzel," the orderly barked from the open door of her cell. Behind him two burly looking guards armed with batons and tasers stood waiting to flank her on the journey through the corridor.  
  
"But my next session with Dr. Leland is not scheduled until this afternoon." Dr. Quinzel countered, not wishing to appear to eager to leave the cell. "Not that I mind after all they are so entertaining." She smiled.  
  
Dr. Leland was attempting to assess whether or not Quinzel was fit to stand trial. Dr. Quinzel on the other hand knowing the procedure, and fully aware that trial and conviction would get her a life sentence in a conventional jail as opposed to the more relaxed regime of the asylum took every opportunity to demonstrate to Dr. Leland that she was as nutty as a fruitcake!  
  
"You got visitors Quinzel let's go."  
  
Now that did surprise Dr. Quinzel, up until now Roland Cameron had been her only visitor.  
  
"New Gotham PD." The orderly explained, "you don't have to see them not without your lawyer."  
  
This was true; it would be best to lawyer up first. Talk to the cops with your lawyer present would be the sane thing to do.  
  
Dr. Quinzel breezed through the door, "lead the way," she sighed.  
  
*****  
  
"Hi I'm Sarah Stokes."  
  
The receptionist took a break from filing her nails and studied the well- dressed young lady in front of her.  
  
"The work placement." Dinah tried again, but all she got back was a raised eyebrow and an "is that supposed to mean something to me?" look.  
  
"From Gotham High?"  
  
A light suddenly went on in the receptionist's head and the nail file dropped into her lap.  
  
"Oh yeah, Rolly said you start today, he's with New Gotham PD right now, one of our clients was arrested last night."  
  
Dinah nodded, "okay so where would you like me to start?"  
  
The receptionist pulled an evil looking lopsided grin; "my names Sandra and I take my coffee with no sugar but lots of cream."  
  
*****  
  
The two cops in the waiting room shifted uncomfortably as Dr Quinzel breezed in. A flash of recognition passed over Dr. Quinzel's otherwise smug features.  
  
"Detective Reese," she grinned pleasantly, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"  
  
"This is my colleague Detective Wells," Reese gestured to the blonde lady sitting next to him.  
  
"Of course it is" Dr. Quinzel smiled oozing sarcasm from every pore. "Nice wig!"  
  
"Let's talk about Edward Nygma." Detective Wells returned with an icy stare.  
  
"Succinct," Dr. Quinzel shrugged, "but what's there to say? I understand he was arrested this morning, perhaps you should be talking to him."  
  
"A former patient of yours?" Reese queried.  
  
Dr. Quinzel snorted, "No Nygma was Dr. Leland's baby. Are we done?"  
  
She stood up to go.  
  
Detective Wells stood up too.  
  
"We haven't started yet. You had a meeting at Roland Cameron's office days before your arrest. People came and went the whole afternoon."  
  
Dr. Quinzel began to laugh, "That's right they came I gave them their instructions and off they went!"  
  
"What instructions?" Reese barked.  
  
"Oh well that would spoil the surprise!" Dr. Quinzel smiled. "You see I wasn't sure if it would work, but the results have been amazing."  
  
"If what would work?" Reese persisted.  
  
"She means her mind control," Detective Wells explained, "That's right isn't it?"  
  
Dr Quinzel nodded, "you know that's really good, have you ever thought of becoming a Detective?"  
  
"So what's so special about this particular form of mind control?" Reese queried cutting in before Wells could reply.  
  
Dr Quinzel sat down again obviously pleased to be asked.  
  
"I told them what to do, but only to do it when they hear the trigger word, it's like post hypnotic suggestion." Dr Quinzel smiled.  
  
"Are you saying that there are people roaming the streets waiting for the word from you to kick start some kind of crime spree?" Reese queried.  
  
"Not necessarily from me!" Dr Quinzel laughed. "But I think I've said enough!" She gestured to the guards, "Take me back!"  
  
Detective Wells held up her hand. "Wait! Just tell me one thing, why try and frame Edward Nygma? What did he ever do to you?"  
  
Dr. Quinzel scowled, "Do? DO?" She slammed her fists onto the desk. "He called my pudding a Psychotic! He wrote it all in his book, and I wont stand for anyone.ANYONE SLANDERING MY PRECIOUS MISTER J!!!"  
  
As soon as the voice was raised the guards were through the door. Tears rolled down Harley's cheeks as they dragged her away.  
  
"THERE'S MORE TO COME!" She screamed, "ONLY I KNOW THE WHERE'S AND WHEN'S!"  
  
Detective Reese looked at his partner, "heard enough?"  
  
Detective Wells nodded.  
  
"Let's go."  
  
"I need to see Dr. Leland first." Wells countered.  
  
*****  
  
Dinah returned from a diner nearby bearing the requested beverage.  
  
Sandra was on the phone.  
  
"Oh she's back," She pulled the phone away for a moment, "just leave it there," and then resumed the phone conversation.  
  
Dinah sat herself in a nearby chair. The door to Roland's office stood ajar. Sandra phone conversation droned on with whomever was on the other end, clearly not a business call.  
  
"Are you kidding?" Sandra exclaimed. "Hey if you can get me an interview I'm gone!"  
  
She paused listening to the other end.  
  
"Well Roland's sweet and everything but lately it's been kind of weird, he's representing that Dr lady who turned the town crazy a couple of weeks back.Yeah that's her.Well she came in a couple of days before, without an appointment I might add.What do you mean stop her.I couldn't.she did something to my head.I don't know like I said weird. next thing I know I'm on the phone to a whole list of people asking them to come in.Old clients mostly, on the pretext that they may be able to claim compensation.I don't know what kind of compensation, personally I think it was just a ruse to bring them here.I don't know why."  
  
Sandra paused to sip her coffee, she nodded to herself approvingly.  
  
"Are you getting this Oracle?" Dinah whispered into her com.  
  
"What's her desk like tidy or messy?" Oracle replied.  
  
Sandra was looking at Dinah curiously.  
  
"Excuse me where is the restroom?" Dinah queried.  
  
Sandra gestured out to the corridor and resumed her conversation.  
  
Dinah headed that way and likewise resumed her conversation with Oracle.  
  
"It's a mess," she confirmed.  
  
"Chances are her the notes on who she called may still be on that desk somewhere," Oracle explained, "See if you can grab them when she takes a break."  
  
"A break from what?" Dinah sneered, "she hasn't done any work, I don't think she leaves her desk much."  
  
"Then get her some more coffee," Oracle sighed, "she can't hold on forever."  
  
*****  
  
Back in her cell Dr. Harley Quinzel relaxed, the cursed shades were thrown on her bed. And she wiped away her tears. She knew they would restrict her phone calls and her visitation rights on the strength of what she had just admitted to. In a pathetic attempt to prevent her using the trigger words. But none of it mattered really; for starters it would never be admissible in court. And as she had stated, the trigger word didn't necessarily have to come from her.  
  
During the long session in Roland Cameron's office they had called in a great number of his clients. Small time crooks most of them, and all received the same clear and concise instructions from Dr Quinzel, mostly involving the words "kill", "steal", and "laugh."  
  
Knowing full well that like her precious "puddin" before her, she may one day be incarcerated and unable to personally "trigger word" her precious minions of chaos, Dr. Quinzel had taken the precaution of assigning dual responsibility for the mental detonation of her human time bombs.  
  
It was amazing that you could for example exert mind control over one Peter Nashton, (a man who knows a thing or two about puzzles,) ask him "nicely" to masquerade as The Riddler, to closely follow the original Riddler's m.o. except kill as many people as possible along the way, and have lots of fun doing it too! Until of course they were either caught or killed.  
  
Again simple, clear, concise, instructions!  
  
But only to be activated when Peter Nashton heard the song "I'm H.A.P.P.Y." Until that time he could go about his otherwise miserable pathetic existence and forget all about ever having met Dr. Quinzel or Roland Cameron.  
  
Yet even more amazing than that, was that you could manipulate the mind of Roland Cameron to dispense the trigger words on a stream of minions and have him not remember a thing about it afterwards! You could programme him to do it on designated dates and times throughout the forthcoming years. When these dates arrived Roland would suddenly feel compelled without knowing why, to visit a specified "human time bomb" and set him off.  
  
Dr Quinzel laughed at the beauty and simplicity of it all. The best was yet to come! And the irony of choosing Peter Nashton of all people to be her puppet was all too sweet. If only she could be there to see Nygma's face, still thank goodness for television.  
  
"You'll regret it Edward Nygma!" She hissed, "right up to the moment of your imminent death! Oh yes," Harley Quinzel mused, "the best is yet to come."  
  
*****  
  
"I'm afraid I can't do that!" Dr Leland stated, "It violates all patient doctor confidentiality."  
  
"But your patient could be in danger." Reese countered.  
  
"I can't just hand over his records."  
  
"Dr. Leland," Detective Wells pleaded, "there may be something in those files that could help Mr Nygma, they will be returned as soon as possible and their access will be restricted."  
  
"I'm sorry but that's my final word on the matter."  
  
Reese and Wells decided to leave, Wells paused, to slam the door.  
  
*****  
  
So engrossed was Sandra in her conversation which had now gravitated onto men and their endless faults, that she failed to notice Dinah's return. Sandra was facing away from the now empty cup on her desk; a mental push from Dinah and it fell effortlessly into the nearby waste paper basket.  
  
Dinah quickly sent over the full cup she had just bought and floated it over to where the old one had stood.  
  
A moment later Sandra absently took another sip and continued to chat.  
  
*****  
  
"Hell with patient confidentiality!"  
  
Reese glanced sideways at his "partner" he had one hand on the wheel steering through the Asylum's gateway, his cellphone was in the other.  
  
"Okay," he acknowledged "good work." And hit end just as the blonde wig went flying past his head and onto the back seat.  
  
"That was McNally!" Reese stated. "Nygma's alibi checks out, and with the admission we got from Dr. Quinzel I would say that leaves Edward Nygma off the hook."  
  
He glanced over again, "can I call you Helena now Detective Wells?"  
  
"Huntress!" She snapped, "I'm working!"  
  
Reese sighed, "whatever."  
  
"So where was he last night?" Huntress queried.  
  
"Some place uptown called The Iceberg Lounge," Reese explained, "you know it?"  
  
"Heard of it, never been there though," Huntress shrugged.  
  
"Well anyway it's a night club and according to McNally, the surveillance shows Nygma going in and not coming out until the early hours. Apparently Nygma and the club owner go way back, and he swears Nygma was there all night."  
  
"So you gonna release him?"  
  
"Nothing to hold him on," Reese confirmed, "talking of nightlife how would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"  
  
Huntress shook her head. "Can't" She said, "I've got plans."  
  
***** 


End file.
